Words From a Former Racetrack

I try to type "fuck you",

But I can't find the letters

And no one can read the extra spaces

I can make okay

Sound like shut the hell up,

But I'm the only one who can hear it

I apologize for what I didn't do.

I say "I don't know" while my tongue is burning.

I nod politely while I split the skin over my knuckles.

I stare at the footprints on my flesh

And I wonder

If I wouldn't be better employed as a racetrack

Why do the people in the bleachers keep watching?

Why doesn't my rain send them home?

When you're an invertebrate you don't get to ask these questions.

Until you realize that sharks are invertebrates too,

With their knife-teeth and blood-filled bellies,

A killer made of cartilage.

I too have sharp edges

And skin made tough by scars.

I even have more bones than a shark.

Tomorrow, the track will be closed.

Tomorrow, I will not apologize.

Tomorrow, I will type "Fuck you!"