erasure by diversion
i got a dog day with
no cos-play. i try to
pilfer my way through
it without thinking.
“about anything?”
you might ask.
i mull this over as
the roses on the
tundra survive and
then melt. the tundra
in my closet is not cold.
it is not hot. as weather
goes. waking up to another
dog in search of a book. wait.
i woke up. to another dog. then
i searched for a book about rain
storms and blossoms. like
childhood’s hydrangeas, we
could not guess the bloom’s
colors until they were out
there. something about
the roots. i hear that in
hawaii there are...
nevermind. i work
my way across the family
tree, looking for instinct.
when i find one i punch
it, as if with a thumbtack.
i don’t have any thumbtacks.
i do have fists but i never use
them. they were used a few
times. or at least i think i can
remember. i can swallow
as well, but i do not
have even one single
ounce of pride. i heard
a bird singing a strange
song this morning before
i went back to sleep.
