i avoid direct eye contact with
her,
because she always knows the contents
of my pockets,

I remember the lighter, clear plastic—yellow, and the area rug, blue and green
itchy spirals, no good for sprawling over for cartoons, only good for the redness of carpet burns,
the shaved skin not showing
the wound until later in the day.

road rivers run parallel to the sun
farm trees spread out
meadow hills unrolling, rolling already packed tightly between fences, defining melody in the grass

Black holes eat time. Known.
Make sure you are watching at a safe distance.
Make sure you are watching from thousands of years away.
(Distance is the only possible precaution)

Perched upon a fence post-
apocalyptic war
While the old men I meet tell TALL
TALES about how they had beaten time
management by
ending time itself

This is no poetic moment.
The sun may be settling in the sky
on a hot Friday morning,
late July—so hot—I can see the heat,
but there is nothing literary about it.

once upon a time in chicago
fall came.
the leaves
half changed
colors/a myriad
of awe.
gorgeous
death.