Jonah

_-__-__ and the curb broke my pacing,

a stranger’s shoeprints still wet in the asphalt.

I thought of calling you,

but the traffic wailed

and I lost my train

of thought.

The horned wails continue.

My thoughts shift to whales.

Train oil lubricates

my synapses as I snap

my fingers, waiting

for the waiter.

The cars have come and gone.

I check the cheque

and count the cents.

It’s all nonsense since

I lost

my senses

in the belly of the beast.

My heart beats

beneath my cage,

a betrayal

against my kind.

I sign my name.

“Jonah” looks foreign.

The cheque lies

on the table.

The streets greet me,

a stranger to myself.

The horns wail again,

waiting for the whale

to swallow me whole.