Any time I start
to think
I might be done
arguing
back
and forth again
with a few dumbbells
and overly-reflective dinner plates
and those cursory screens,
and everything I can imagine
seems to exist
at right angles
to something else
which I hoped it was supposed
to be fluently representing—
any time
I'm ready
to just give in
and believe, already—
just so I don't
have to take responsibility
for knowing;
that's when I realize—
I could probably always,
in theory, at least,
go for
a nice cup of coffee,
and that
sometimes, that isn't a symbol
for anything;
sometimes, it's
just
the thing.
