Something, Not Me

we’re lost here in this sun-downed, melt-
faced stand-down, locked
as we were, in our
half-cocked and
flawed, slack-jawed logic

wide-eyed, dazed and blinking, made
dumb by our thinking: that
time
necessarily
moves forward

that we can be as close as
touching, and then as
divided by ocean, the
motion-sickness tingling, and
to fear this brink of kindling

something, not me

I’ve always wanted to jump, and have
only longed for the right
song to make me.



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