pre-middle-aged people,
right now in the uncountable moments
interposed between us and lunch
together we sleepwalk
in the best interest of claws.
We have broken the future of thunder.
Is it interesting or sad? There is no difference.
All children’s books are now about death.
Poem without Intimacy
the other day I was shopping
in one of those giant incredibly brightly lit stores
you can apparently see from space
wheeling a massive empty cart
thinking this is a lot like thinking
why do I go to sleep
not having brushed my teeth and dream
of the giant failure
known as high school again
on the loudspeaker was a familiar song
by Quicksilver Messenger Service
there were no lyrics but I remember
it says we are all skyscrapers
under one blue rectangle
that never chose us
to be these sentinels
who imperceptibly sway
and watch people far below
like tiny devices no one controls
enter our various sunlit glass conversations
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