justwrite 24 july

well deeply enough it looks like the weather’s going to change rearranging all the dust in the air and comparing molecules in different cells and we might as well acknowledge that college had little to do with that insight it’s a might bit closer than the toaster ever was no oven to hold to have to grab at with burned fingers and to linger longer lovingly with the cord in hand yanking and cranking and packing the tank with dank reminders of mistakes will I break this heart or another and will my own follow suit or will it be clubs all around coming up in spades flashing like diamonds in the red and black conceit the extended metaphor that is its own defeat fleeting thoughts boxed up inside a two-color system glistening with confidence speaking the wrong language in the right country and a bumpkin plus a haystack is a counter-attack on time-telling and there’s no smelling where that came from there’s a heap of fun running off with the groom and a tomb of its own design following dotted lines onscreen in between we make our own answers we are our own dancers and chancers of wild-eyed fantasy I am so pleased I can’t breathe in and out at the same time which is fine because it’d be sad to choke on air when there’s nothing there and to bid a fond farewell to an unfair fare the price we paid today was more than it ought to have been and I didn’t swim and there’s still a challenge to unravel we are getting ready to travel but where will we end up and who will hold the cup as the compote gets poured who will be bored by the tourist sights who will see the lights and also the dark and who will cry out and what will they say let’s delay those forecasts let’s outlast those batteries those outcast hats of different futures of sutured memories raggedly even with the present does the voice seem hesitant or is it all in the interpretation what a fascination with information even when there’s none to be had is it a bad thing to imagine that you know what you know who am I to blow against the previously written words to that song I won’t carry it off as my own because you’d phone home right to your mother or the new york public library or the immense desk reference they produced you used to think you were clever but the cleaver came down and all the little piggies ate eggplant parmesan after they came back from the co-op because that’s what I was told and that’s what I believe