the final crumb of x

clear-throated, I sing in
a see-through coat
some garbageman filled my pockets with pulses
now they are fish in a bowl

when I biked through the rain
in my see-through coat
blindness coated my eyes
my legs got soaked, but my torso
remained invisible and warm

slicking over the road the translucent thought of a ghost
above a dark sea under the wet black
baby fist, like like the roof
of your mouth, David Sherman

David,
I saw pods of sophomores in gold slacking through a green gym period
I saw three plastic skulls gritting teeth deep over a hedge
and it isn't even October,

the month of the top half of your body, or
November, the month of you from the waist down

and after I saw through the sun came out so
I started to bake
And I baked and I baked
And I sweat butter
And I sneezed salt