Notions

So I’m stuck wondering how to grow a flood. I’m wondering why Tuesday is a slide. Time flaps a wing at me and the honest bending of a branch becomes the way I live. My hands barge into the shipyard to make shade. For the wondering, I spend change. I am a space helmet for a tricycle.

I have wine in my pockets. I’ve memorized all the keystrokes. I studied hard. I’m making balloon animals out of train tracks. I’m backing myself up regularly and making copies of my past so that if I crash, it’ll be alright. It’s all fake blood.

We, together, twine roots deep into the future. The reins connect our spines to pages not written yet. All standards tested, all lights green, all maps committed, all fingers uncrossed, all laughter unrehearsed. We look away from the mirror.

So I’m stuck wondering how to burn masks. I’m wondering why armour is easy to get into but hard to get out of. The road calls to foreign television and the short pier becomes a diving board. My eyes shift into the graveyard to make a nursery. For the plane tickets, I spend my retirement. I am a nudist in an elevator.



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