Missing Person

1

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On the walk to the liquor store,
I noticed an upper denture
resting atop freshly fallen snow;

A decontextualized smile,
forgotten or misplaced.

I handled it lovingly,

putting the teeth
into my pocket.

 

As I tread through the three to four inches of snow, 

 

I couldn't help but recall an article I'd read about

ancient mummified remains that had been discovered in the alps;

Known as “The Ice Man”
his skull had been bashed in.

God, it must feel so lonely to kill, I thought
continuing down MLK JR ST:

a blob
a blight
a blemish

an interloper
leaving footfalls
through the driven snow.

2

A missing persons flyer featuring a photo of a man flashing gang signs

had been taped to the liquor store door.

I took my spot in line studying those around me,

aware that, no matter what we had in common

this exact collection of people would never assemble again.

We all recede,

deranged
counting loose change,

shouting about vodka
through bullet proof glass.

And so, believe me when I tell you,

"I wouldn’t drink like this
unless it was absolutely necessary."

And to think I’d once been one to blaspheme,

so much of myself whittled away.

3

Floral paper coming unglued from the motel wall

I was the shoplifted can of engine starting fluid next to the ashtray.

I was the splatter of ketchup congealed on last night's paper plate.

And so, I went about the
violence of consumption.

Eyes full of dial-up gore and nudity not worth paying for,

living for
all the things
that were killing me:

This is what I knew,
but not what I needed.

And to think,
I’d been young up until now.