Can & Drum
We flounder around and
enjoy our cliches. As with
the duplicity of an umlaut
on American soil, we
flounder. It’s genetic
and hegemonic. We
love it as we love ourselves.
But is it, are we, defective?
Like running into an elephant
after a stressful week, it all ends
in an e-argument. Maybe we
should be more in a hurry.
Or less. I’m sitting on a bed
in a room that should be a
mountain. A body on a
precipice. An as if mountain.
The room is an oak tree.
I could be a squirrel or a
turkey. I could be a free
man. I could be all four.
It goes on like this.
Keep doing something
and you’ll get better at it.
Like being a husband.
With no benefits.
