where
do you want to go? ask
the toy planes in the window, the suits
of the travel agents ballet on their backs
to the music behind the
closed door. i’ve been told it’s a dying
industry but for now it’s me that’s trying
not to capture my reflection
in the window
in my photo
time and space fold in and out
breathe
like an accordion
i’m part of the problem
keeping my fingers
pushed against the knob
what will it be this time?
will i fall
will i be pulled
or maybe massaged through,
guided, my make believes
parted,
sub-equal
i sang out
for the walls
looked beatable
close up
the thought of
taking a crowbar
to the cracks i saw there
pacified
from curtain to keyhole
a single note moves from
show to show in search of its role
no matter the size of the ending in sight
chase the most promising light
off an early smell, curbside,
comes afternoon
a sidewalk of wet paper
and straw
endless noses craning up
practice was the word
i used to separate
the land from the sea
the first to look back
was the first to think escape
the two outcomes merge
when you check the tape
off my shoulder
a figure moves across
the shutter door
a better view emerges
under the glass
the fire that burns through this
expression is now
seasonal,
sorry to say
learn to be less haunted
Sunshine and Wind 