transparency (20170923)

that kid behind
the deli counter
runs the meat
snick snick
against the whirling
blade
shaving off paper-thin
slices of my feelings
wrapping them in white
paper
–white except for he gets blood on it–
and sells it to me by
the ounce
always rounding up
to the quarter pound

i keep coming back
waiting for the butcher
to run out
but he always has a thick
fat-marbled dome
ready for the machine

i will read
the evening’s news
through transparent sheets
of myself