I’ve been lost down Siamese
streets
the only one with hands
unbleached
the only one with Rainier’s teeth

I’ve been quiet as trickling roots
and the Puget Sound
distilling old apologies that linger
in the breeze
among the rain, they pulverize
concrete

I was locked in the market, waiting
for you
there was a reason to be in
the city, and
no way to leave