I have idiots made of clouds
throwing drinks and laughing loud
I have patterns of yarn and tacks
in the shapes of railroad tracks
I have heretics smothered in shame
who are trying to clear their name
But where are you?
I have libraries of landscapes
their color of rust is green
I have letters I wrote in wartime
but they're all addressed to me
I have prisoners dressed in sequins
but they say we're all free
Are you one of them?
I was wrapped in a shell
and shot in a line
A ballistic point on a map, aimed
towards the edge of my mind
I still have my best guess
but I'm running out of time
Can you see me anymore?
Put yourself in my mind
as a swan in the sky
We'll be fleshy and untangling
but we're not really mine
We are not merely questions
or the cones in my eyes
But if you play the odds,
we were never even here.
October, 2013