Light gels between our toes.
Wet on deck.
Sun on the fence.
Lately I fear someone’s combing my brain
when all kinds of thoughts stretch in one direction.
The tallest lie ever:
over the moon with you.
(Until I’m so over it
I’m past past.)
The sprinkler’s on
indefinitely
I starve for less life.
Or lesser—
Memory the width
of 3 seconds.
I’d love that.
From this birch to that.
You keep telling me you forgot to whet the knife.
I’m sure you just forgot whetting the knife.
Whatever happened to the blighted ones?
They decided to take it.
Then to take no more.