New Haven Green, August 15, 2018

Jenny J. Chen
Sep 2, 2018 · 1 min read

Rage me. Plaster the fentanyl at will. Laugh
into the eyes of God, then throw it in the fire.
Pass out packets of K2 until they pass out.
It is hot as hell up here. The August flames.
So does the pavement. So do the bus stops
with their shattered walls of glass; their stink
of piss. Sky fades to grey; bench floats
like water. Doze until the fire licks

the brains of those convulsing on the grass;
sirens burning themselves hysterical. I don’t
know what you’re saying. Talk to me.
The shrapnel hits a hundred speeds.

Jenny J. Chen

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