but don’t expect me to take the bait.
These are fragments of your imagination. You’re hungry
and you’re stuck in traffic. I
saw the picture. Yesterday it was ninety degrees and I was frozen. Today,
you guessed it, a chilly fog. I would say that I’m
still frozen but I saw the fucking picture. Yeah,
I’m ready. I want you to live in these people.
I imagine plenty of sleep. You’re cross.
You have a cross in your hand. You’re me,
pools of mercury behind pools of black, a planned escape,
plenty of sleep. Don’t expect me to take the bait. Not with words anyway.
I called you. I knew the melting point.
I wanted to call you. Look at how angry the trees are.
