This post brought to you by a hangover.

how does a day take shape? there are distant hums, sirens, and cages..
smells and sounds, inner rumblings.
cloud swaths, ethereal
and the cold, hard ground.
there might be a dusty road
or a bright smiling face.
lines on your hands, and on trees' trunks,
(everything is growing)
light reflecting in pools of inky water.

we are trying to keep something alive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Someone thought of us, once.

It's true–
we flashed across their brain pans and for a brief moment
each and every one human
(some robust, some passing in and out)
was quickly and carefully
lifted up
and held;
lovingly inspected
each and every inch.
But there is not enough time
can't look for very long
So they closed their eyes and imagined, hard

emblazoning all of the faces,
and garments,
and shrieks (of laughter, and pain!)
and endless possibilities
of combinations.

it burned brighter and became a din,
ferocious.
until the moment passed,
and they resumed their own life
picked up where they'd left off
(where was it?)

Someone thought of you, once.