possessions

What do I have

What do I have
a book
and no convictions
perhaps
all I have is
this:
exiting a subway station
going up the steps
squeezed between
too many pedestrians
I hear every shoe
scrape against the cement
and stare at the spit
of punkasses
frozen at -13 Celsius
a night that howls
like a monster
but does not eat me
steps
aimless steps
driven mad
like the man
without a thought
that laughs
at the joke
of
eternity.