In the event that
I am always it’s
disheartening.
The warm doing
nothing but its
casual distance.
For instance, the
air b/w my lawn
and the neighbor’s
is full of sad music
and personal
belongings. I
put our best
possessions
in the window
for everyone to
stare at and want.
There were old
pleasures: wet
swimsuit on the
carpet, and a rock
labeled “Mom’s
garden.” There’s
a new way to
determine length
that has nothing
to do with jealousy.
I unwrapped the
fresh bones from
their tissue like
a gift. Christmas
is out of reach now
& unlikely to occur.
Yet the calendar
is susceptible to
echo. Like every
few days, the
phonograph does
something atypical.
But in the end you
just get used to it.
There’s nothing
remarkable about
highways anyway.