Once, I felt these shallow aspirations
dislocating my body
from tomorrow, breathed deep and
supposed I needed to
get somewhere new.
But instead of changing my address,
my tack was—to continue
to stay in the exact same place,
not moving, rarely talking
(and only then in a kind of raspy whisper),
never sitting, but always
standing-up in front
of a desk all day
with my arms held out.
And sure enough,
after a while, everything I could see
out my window on the street
began to look complete-
ly wrong to me—except, I guess,
for the trees.
