there’s a house on fire less than two miles away

and my scalp burns memory of nails graze.

the 37 goes up the hill to my house.

each turn, and weave through the residential cars

shake my tail bone.

I read the same Dickinson poem,

it would not sound so deep.

why does he get off on the sound of his voice?

the man on the bus tells me

San Francisco deludes itself into big city dreams

while it lives its middle life,

and he has no clue I dread the alarms.

I lift my eyes from the current’s ear as he horror-marvels

how life must trouble my age.

the house on fire less than two miles away:

how I long for his stop at the bottom of the hill

and I have two miles to go though my scalp

burns and tail shakes; a smoke-born

conviction plagues the new atmosphere.

Zelig Komula (they/them) is a trans neurodivergent writer and reader based out of San Francisco. They hold a BA from California Institute of Integral Studies.