3rd Floor Up
The days started
getting slower and faster simultaneously.
And I lost interest.
But at the same time,
they raced and I couldn't see them pass.
And the women behind a big desk let me talk,
and I told the truth,
but I also lied.
And didn't mention
that maybe I just thought
this was the new constant.
Because the truth felt too much like
something that could make her
absolute.
But she handed me
a folded up paper,
over and on itself.
With the words
[ ]
laced across the top.
And it felt fake
and I felt fake.
And it felt oversensitive and
overzealous
and meant
nothing.
...
But heaviness hung over my face,
framing it,
like those bangs, I tried to grow out,
when I tried to grow up.
3 Sides
I like that square
space.
It's above your apartment.
It's streaming blue
and clouds.
Framed with roof and
gutter and wall.
It reminds me of an installation,
at the museum in Dallas.
I went to in 4th grade.
My friend touched
a Picasso of a vase of
flowers.
I was worried.
But it reminded me:
this huge room
with a tall ceiling.
And at the very top
in the roof
there was an open square.
So we could see the
sky.
Just a little.
And I didn't get it.
Or like it.
But staring up at this day
at this sky
it feels like,
maybe
I get it.
The Third Time
And I thought about
how the tiny spines of
a soft plant
illuminated it
when the sun struck
them correctly.
And then I held my breath
and my mind bounced -
overwhelmed.
I was leaving
soon.
There was so much
to do,
to do.
-
I can't breathe.
Should I drop?
Should I swing?
Two ants trade places
on a brick.
They pass each other
I wonder if they say hello?
My eyes twitch.
Back and forth.
And you greet him
Always greet
him.
Did the weight of heavy shoulder
tell you when they became too much?
What did I do,
worry on?
10 drops to 7 and over.
And the space between tiles
fill up with caulk.
And that's how things are held together.