A million different landscapes with snow.
It’s a study of bees. These are your future ducks.
We get desperate. We start dancing. It is a weird
come apart. No returns of cake. No exchanges
of cake. Run your thumb across your bottom lip.
Run your thumb across your bottom lip again.
I float quietly. I have a nice stand. I don’t know
how to say, I’m just looking. We breathe air.
We keep the same body temperature all day.
We are holding onto things. An unspecified
racket. A small wagon. The biggest warehouse.
It’s ambitious and complicated. It’s a result
that is still unclear and can go either way.
I do not know what I have to make. I make
mistakes and many of them. I’m afraid I make
many mistakes. This has something to do
with the desperation and something to do
with other things too. A web of smoke holding
onto a dark night. Refusing to reflect any light.
Tell me things. I am waiting for you to tell me things.
I want you to tell me things.