Tuesday, June 21, 2016

UNCOMFORTABLE SILENCE

Time's not a thing, it's a
procedure

and it
proceeds—to pin

everyone
down to everywhere.

It's a war
marching

out from
and into everything,

sneaking past customs,
roughing

the passer, fleeing restaurants
without paying

for dinner. It always fires
the first shot,

which inevitably punctures
a hole in the very last sack of flour.

With that same kind
of maniacal

tyranny of the majority, it fixes it
so that someone

is always "there
first," which is why I never

really feel
like I'm accurate or

authentically
sitting next to her.

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