The day in February two thousand seventeen.
“it started cold but now it’s like the perfect bea-“ –ch weather sugar sand tall boy in hand
“or picnic weather!” oh! yes, it’s so warm in the sun
“or pool weather” or whatever!, whether or not the weather!
silence sketched onto the canvas and I painted that room with my thoughts in my thoughts
splashing like rocks into and through the glasswater-pond
like white, bone white sugar into and through the brown thick coffee
–there’s so much coffee in my system
I have a thought, another thought, a thought I cannot think em, I cannot list em, I cannot miss them, I cannot sync them.
each word each sound will carry me somewhere else and somewhere else and it never will end it never end until you
–even THE DOOR opens and closes in the wind
it’s a kid.
“you,” says kid who pushes the door, who knew me as someone else myself I look at my hands
time pushes 6 pm. it’s my brother’s birthday and I haven’t yet told him
I really do love him