across one's shoulder, blink
a surreptitious flick of the, no, not
embarrassment. Effigy. But? Forgot my sunglasses again. That kind of
sympathetic thump. Just in the nick of
An artificial display of affection or interest. An opportunity
to back up, to look across one's indigence, to impute
potential heartbreak. Forgot myself again. That kind of
penury. That blip on the surface, that reflection or that
aspiration—curses, flubbed again.
I pretend to recognize these birds.
I slip from the sidewalk.
I covet my former self.
I congregate, around the edges
things just went dark.
And so the landscape squiggles. The edges overlap.
