time, day, what is that?
lie across
the bed at angles
in states of undress
& listen
to noise
on shuffle
Sun sketches the house next door
in glaring relief, so it’s day,
early-ish day:
a little later clouds will show up
to wash time
off the neighbor’s siding.
random.
meandering.
walks.
divide the infinitely divisible into chunks
indeterminate timelessness
pomegranate, tequila, and simple
syrup
spell an endless parade of bourbon
& sodas
in the kitchen washing a stray plate
a moment
sudden
crystallized
I become inexplicably emotional
& cry during a Bob Dylan song
I’ve heard passively for 40 years
the rage I have lived with since the age 16 feels now diffuse
and unearned,
even if circumstances suggest the opposite
flit
moment
moment
incredible
& subjective
vision
is this the
world now?
is it even
different
in any
qualitative way?
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