so how did it all rise up so slowly
blinking on the back of a truck, a
of dark grey from a pipe as it gears down -
innocent enough export of fumes
a body in motion, a body
motion in this mind. A tortuous, grinding ascent
insinuation to fact.
words which we come at each other with filter,
sometimes spit back.
kettle to the boil, and a hand too close to its spout -
much time spent sitting out here on this deck
that truck crawl finally to the top and indicate that it's
of this junk. Over the rail cold coffee is
from a cup.
casual disgust at myself, how do I find such
in the innocuous?