Mostly, You’ll Find Me for Franz Wright

by James Rioux

Forgive me this
silly little riddle:

of how the world keeps
giving me these bruised sunsets pooling

into night, the endless jokes with no lines
punching me awake —

and how I fall
asleep watching myself watching myself

etcetera, in the most unzen
of states.

Mostly, you’ll find me pumping gas
with the others.

And less and less often, with these words
that ratchet down

the distance,
convincing even the difficult

company of my thoughts
there’s this listener.