hello jerkoff

behind the third camera

i'm in the wake of the big boats

all afternoon spent in the beastly sun

and they're heading home

circling 'round my backstroke

everybody on the deck just gravy happy

well tanned, Corona in hand

smiles from port to starboard

and the quicker i slip beneath the surface

the better it feels

like night on my touched skin

who painted me on this?

a downpour of choking smoke in the desert

reaching toward nothing seen in the distance

a candle running out of time

i'd never expect to find the reasons

or to understand them

how they're buried in held hands

Mother's swooping forehead

does Jesus know about this?

on rocky soil it folds me, shatters all pure like a shotgun

i sit down by the shade of the mountain

as clear as i'd hoped for, and there's Iowa

pointing in broad directions... that way

and the wider i open my eyes

the more i want to stay in bed and ignore the real world

the more i listen to whomever's talking

the less i feel

the less i am, the better for everyone

does it matter in pink and blue chalk drawn squares?

like pathways through the tallest pushing grass

i'm led... and it's not like me

to have a destination

it's beside me every second i'm not at a full wind sprint

pale gray shadows, my yesterday unearthed

standing stoic in slow stabbing motions

yellow it always was

and it glows there, burning until someone finds it

could be eons from here

could be any minute now