after William Kitterman

imagine if this went on
much longer
if it happened again
and again 

an old friend speaks:
you are a scared little man
my sweet friend
my sweet from end to end

bring a cup of joe
sit here on the stoop 
slurping pain
let it happen once again

after the morning noise
where I thought much,
felt little—evening came—
and my heart was breaking,

no one was there to notice,
because I hadn’t noticed them.