Ni le Jus de Cerises ni le Soda

Let it rain like kingdoms not restraints

Nor nor nor is light light light

Let it become like diamonds balanced on a pointy end

Gemstone or Plato or fresh from the shapes palette, whatever works

It’s everyone vying to pick up the tab before we’ve learned that right of way is a thing

It’s a relationship between a direction and the number 8 that only just came to us with a flash

Of skittering pixels

Of Westward Expansion

Of reckless leader-picking

Of meme dances and their dancers

I’m talking about balance, or I mean to be

We’re not even talking about the game

We’re talking about balance

Balance

But you see, Time’s thing is it keeps going

Keeps breaking things

I’m so sorry

Have Have Haven’t Been

Incredibly under text messages

Ever forward because the equations said so

Not saying so

Not still and/or not moving and/yet moving

Like the last scene done well.

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And like a motion, an electric motion, wiperblades wiping, interlingual exchange, evangelism, hung juries leaving the courthouse, every lunar eclipse in a leap year, and another autumn around the corner.

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All the layers of a Smith Island Cake

Personal preferences

Rain in April in every one of my 51 years in every place I’ve ever lived

And yet, and how, and when, and even.

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Like hearing the rain there, over the phone, when it is raining here.