PRESSURE PRESS ARCHIVE

WITHDRAWAL i discard a dozen years of anguish, drugs, a good lake of booze. seagulls squat on parking-meters, walk past them quietly downtown. i'm signing my name to unemployment claims when previously, employed, i'd be asleep. clang of steel echoes at the sides of my head. all slab. slag, my bones. i don't regret sudden freedom, but what about medical insurance, what about christmas. the gulls are gone & a traffic-cop lady is smiling like a child, busses roar up closed-down storefronts, finding myself so abstract, alone in the city of erie.