simple question whitled me down into a thing of no renoun to hold up, of subtance wet and foundations unsettled. man or mouse? if i whisper softly to a bush outside my window will a slightly louder whisper reach the empty street with an occasional car or two that says “you still matter,” pulling up to the old optional stop sign.
i held a fist when i thought about myself being my own worse enemy as a courtesy. then i tried not at all to remember what it was like to be lost in a thought and how many hands it took to hide me with curtains against myself. the hands fell away like swift wind dissing the blow away of a cigarette some lost toke ago and the curtains said yes and know but yes with a full chord you might not ever know. last minute descisions felt unreasonable for a man of my stature, only to awe in disbelief that the first part of that sentence escape any crevace of my opine of mineself at all.
like a kindergarten classroom i spoke to the children of the future, as identity slipped in and out of glassy hands unheld but firm like somebody swore it at a time sensitive to swears ever mattering. i felt a head change and a spell cast dizzy, and remembered when i tried to be a white man, with eyes a tiny bit heavier. i became a white thing that had no color to shake, and an old heater, upheld by old heights and a handshake old guys used to give you advice on an impression you should leave. i pissed my guards and my shields and walls away, like a liar. they just look like a little bit further to something dealt i will near. mystery has as many syllables as an old exaggeration of finer childhood fiction. shh, a triumphant decree dangles somewhere. and “uhhh….” was the best first words sometimes. change to something minor, like how close the children ran with his scripted words an old writer would have held with both hands once sometime ago.
i feel the vultures swoop and say, uh huh. uh huh. and so on.
“a split second in the middle, once” took me a spell. now a second waited is just empty air being filled in.