Another Desk Poem

Crumble on, old wall.
Sun from Costco’s roof to ours,
bounced light given
in good faith.
Be present. There is more dust
today than yesterday.
Is that not what I seek?
No. I am here to hide
the passage of time.
To vanish the staples of
some other job. Be present.
This will not last forever.
Look at something close,
look at something far away.
Someone I used to know
is suffering. The old state hospitals
are gone. Once he told me
I was aging like a porcelain doll,
but I was twenty five 
and that was why. We didn’t see it 
at the time.
I hope he doesn’t freeze to death.
I work by the river, I sometimes remember.
I once met a man named Pyramid at lunch,
staring at the ferry’s wake.
he had high hopes for his life here.
Old wall, are you crying out
for help or glory,
I am here, I am here, I am brick
I am real.
I am real too. I have to believe
not everyone is. 
out of spite, yes, but also
mercy
and also wonder.
What else can fill a body?
I see black velvet pocked
with pinhole lights.
Be present. Winter sun.
Little self inside: still strong,
punk valedictorian, no
porcelain doll. A child whose
banana is a gun, and not a phone.
Little self, I love you. Present, gone,
productive, dust. Staples
to hold, and then, remove.