Little blue question marks

fill up the vitreous
space inside your eyes
and you duck under
the overpass in this
city you’ve never been
able to name and you
wonder if things will
always be this way,
and you ask yourself
what it means to sink
under the weight
of so many constellations
of questions, so many
pinholes in the night
sky that you can’t hide
from no matter how
much concrete you pile
above your head, no
matter how many
roofs of apartments
you rent to cover up
the fact that you are
without a home here