post 10 november

justwrite 10 november

when is kapusta not kapusta this is when it’s cabbage not soup when it’s cooped up with other words waiting to be heard it is hurried off and turned into an adjective we are living big here we are dreaming of conjugation and coughing into declining health but the wealth is in the endings pretending we know the differences the cases with laughing faces peering down from the wall hardly peers to us all but lofty and scoffing I wish toffee was hauling itself toward us and stretching out its sticky length to comfort our teeth our tongues hung out to dry in the inside heat can’t compete with the misty haze of autumn days fading into winter no hints of just how cold and I can’t say that it’s getting old because there’s no comparison there’s no way I can see through to the other side of somewhere without a more complete map I am ready to adapt but the traps of each moment cling closer and I am hoping for a bazaar more normal than the next I am collecting data and photographs I am reading the signs and in English it says stop but there is no top there is no bottom just a crosswalk waiting to be solved and I have resolved to find the other end or at least to pretend to be headed in that direction to the station without information but ready to buy a ticket