In Plain Sight

If I wanted to vanish

I’d first replace my scent.

So the wolves couldn’t find me.

Or change my attire, like the one-eyed cat behind the dumpster at Taco Bell.

The stain on the church carpet.

The ganja in the craters of the sidewalk.

They know how to exist without being asked.

Unfiltered. Right where they dropped, spilled, or cracked.

I would go at dusk.

Leaving a trail of just enough dust as an appetizer for when they wonder where I’m at.

I’d remove my wig and I’d let my hair down.