Sunday, January 5, 2020

IN THE DETAILS

It seems
no matter
what the situation—

waiting rooms, dinners
out, hikes through the forest—
there's always

the most punctilious
devil
on my shoulder;

life-and-death
talons clenching
sensitive skin

bright red
wingtips urging, change direction 
again, go faster go faster

or tweeting
out to his legion
of followers—as if I was no longer

counting myself among them—
is it over yet? god 
this is boring.