A mix of words and fear balloons
In your belly like before school,
Now before work, excuses that
Swallow air, hold your breath, contain
Shame and worthlessness roiling
Like a geyser or a secret
Worn on a face you think hidden
As staring down, you exhale.
Inscrutability is a
Craft, not just a passion I say
Feeding the card reader at the
Parking garage, waiting for the
Gate to lift, a Midway con in
Reverse, like taking best of five
In tic tac toe against yourself.
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Everyone is tech savvy these
Days, like the man under the Route
13 overpass shopping for
A used cardboard box on his phone.
The best deals are online; they
Just drone that shit into you
Like you were Taliban with good
Credit, or no credit at all.
We amble in deserts
Others jet over
The country arid with lust
I know less today
Than I did yesterday
But that’s ok
Because when I wake up in your arms
Who needs the vantage point of space?