and now
all i see-
faint flicks
of smoke
filling the air,
dancing around
my lungs
like rough patches
of leather
falling
apart.
and no,
i don't like to hear it.
the sound of a
silver spoon
in the oven-
crackling to its
own beat
like a comet
chasing the sky-
viscid, and ambiguous;
all the men on the
moon couldn't
save you
now.
and the metallic
shift of beads
falling-
like a rain stick
down my throat and
neck-
forgetting that it's only
today.
tomorrow isn't that far
away.
the impact of this railroad
cannot be gainsaid,
even after all the planks
you've laid down so
haphazardly;
i could travel
forever,
my omnipotent
scientist
of soil.