Brachycardic in the way of the neocolonial, populace-answers corner the market on the ragged food of data; but yes, we find ourselves, maybe, entering the streams of habituation only to startle the vat of choices that seem to be barreling headlong humming toward our snarled intentions of authenticity,
And specific to a simultaneous saturation of deconstruction, two mochas, a shared muffin and the debris data of dredging keys enter a colossal but crumpled concept of stenography, during blindfolded eddies, humming with impeachment.
Then unfolds a causeway along an axis of social habituation; girls wear incoherent sandals.
A food emergency pummels the habituation of static-charting in the corner booth,
And there you are, more stern than the pacificity of a lake—
caught, as it were, during a perfect tread
along the prescription syntax of reticence.
A time of terrible suffering came
and the comb from your hair removed—
how then it fell, like elevators cut from the navel of the roof
all down your shoulders my back and arms
your head on this little key of bones—
for love keeps ever so careful a set of books—
photos each and every look
found in the still
For I will fall with you
into this way
of the furniture
we live among
and the nothing
we have to say