The mercury of universal flesh
drips eloquently down the side
of a mirror. You are somewhere
in the midst of ultimate comfort
when you notice it. You report
it as spam. At first. But it keeps
dripping, reappears, moves you
to new dimensions, seizes the
day, takes you on a picnic
and buries the evidence.
Everything’s useless,
even if we catch some
body parts. And I
don’t like my new
friends. We’re too
ashamed to show them
off. Is it our inability
to fall? Way down in my
gut I think about yesterday
and that’s when it always happens.
Not simply the airplane back to nowhere.
Just overwhelmed with complicated
and glistening matter.
