December 17, 2011
#11 What if? (2)
What if sunglasses for tears
in endless gods of winter, you looked away?
I can find myself in recycle bins
of machines and of memories, clumsy,
still narrow on the pencil, margin of
disguise. Wheels that carry you,
reverse my thought bubbles.
Fish me my equations, none of these
are tallying. You tell me highways and
dish me out alleys where every month
my footsteps keep getting back at me.
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