STORM
I meant to say something like
that the sky was a bruised peach
or
bent
doubled
crippled speaking of the
ordinary rain phenomenon
but I said nothing almost killed us
almost crashed the car
into another car “hydroplaned”
it could all have been over and is not.
I have no particular feelings
(this is almost a mantra, in that
I repeat it, but it offers no
solace, no success at soullessness
it doesn't work, so it's not,
a mantra.)
The theme seems to be that
everything is not these days.
A baby waving as if
swimming through the air
grappling with that sea.
The sound of her orgasm
a cat jumps on the bed
“remember me?”
remember me
hair a mess of floss in my mouth
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