low-flying planes on contract to insure the safety of the impervious
and the symmetry of the ensuing fragments. widening quibbling
populace. it seems we are supposed to thank them for this, despite

the occasional jangly edge of an unsettled ethnic naming
attempt—of each of the arms, legs, ears, and lips. what gets lost in the
process. the masses join up, and how, in the desire to formulate what

might amount to a still grander delusion of expedient returns. how
the limbs particle in the grainy light of crowding, how buzzy
it all looks under the new blue light. how whenever a kiss

goes astray the kissee doesn’t seem to notice. as if being kissed
is some kind of compensation. remembering days when getting nosebleeds
were itself a goal, and perhaps it is. we shall bankrupt ourselves

on the spaces that lie between us. too much investing in too
bright a contour, so the more realistic negative space blew out our tiny
little time-space. the continuum which wraps around and

reminds us that the real is only realish dovetails literally
when defined by your insatiable measures of authenticity and bias
providing buoyancy if we manage to catch the wind on an up

or merely a gust on a left. i open my mouth just in case, in
hopes of non-acidic raindrops or a shared AM radio molar rock-out, in
case they halted the production of cerulean filters too quickly for