Nothings

rodentia

Our basket of tangelos, megalomania, eventually.
The little plastic cover on the tip of your shoelace is called an aglet.
It is a delicate word.
I see you are standing on ants.

You walk away. And
the you turn around. You
were not expecting me
to look. Gladly,
you turn your back.

It's difficult to know when we should signal fissure.
I know you are there, you know. I am thinking
about admonishing pinochle and transient chloride deposits.
I am trying my best to be a conservationist.

Maybe, you are thinking about the post-it notes shaped like the first letter of your
name, about concertina victims and confetti.
You told me there was a scar near your Achilles tendon shaped like a racetrack.


The hardened lips on Libyan tankers when we were in Tripoli: here
we are at the bus stop. Here we are in Istanbul, in solid state electrics.
You kept the hotline open. You always wanted to start breeding rats.
We went to Odessa and skipped around pianos, which made you very sleepy,
though,
you thought it was funny, how
you always carried a spare stencil.

Now, the season in its dénouement.
Now it is a crochet grassland. Standing here, the ants have followed
your scent and are climbing up the little plastic cover
on the tip of your shoelace. It is cold. You start to turn

I'm an actuary.

A word is just
your mouth unfolding,

but all I want is lead.
You tell me you want to undo your
shoes and we take off your socks and shoes
and we tie your hair to a tributary and let
and let and let and let.
We cleave your water cup
and sieve.

We are a transliteration, or maybe a navy base. A
navy base. Or maybe the soft smut of needles
in the pine fray.

The FM signal has gravitied, you make gravy with flour.
We'll never get out of here. We've got syndromes.

Cross dialtone with kerosene and you've got serotonin.
Cross your t in dictionary.
Styrofoam and gasoline make napalm. We've
got a radio route. I am made of bells.

Decimate the thorn in the thorn. In
the thorn is a slowing heat, caused by a
black pustule. Any such pustule.

The subtly greying statuary. In insectary.
The legs betray the garbage can, betray the light beam,
betray the dust, coalesce. I am calculating
the hiss and swish of bones. An oxbow
or a trike. A kilo
is 1000 grams.