Saturday, June 11, 2005

the start of every idea

or heavy on the cellos, light wind

=the moment right before the music
=the second a fountain is turned off &
leaves a migration not likened to air

=the automatic timer switches on the sprinklers
=autopilot blips the brake pads of tray table

=I’m coming
=I’m leaving

=I’m positive,
she loves me in ways you cannot

=I’m going to ask you to sit down
the world is about to pop

=if only you’d have asked sooner
I’d tell you what I thought
which had an earring of truth in it
vacuum sealed inside a car in the rain

camouflage of parking lots:
blending into your environment like gum on a hot day

=I have this hair pin trigger here, for rent

+the air is running out

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