the scalp and the spine and the armpits and crotch
where the skin is so thin and near to the bone
and your nails are the bus at the terminal stop
and it’s five or six blocks still to walk to get home
and a surface defined by a brush or a touch
like the soft of a mallet meets the taut of a drum
roll your eyes further back but the sky’s further up
when the scratcher is absent the itcher’s alone
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