I take it back:
it was unfair to assume
that you were always in the moment–
hell, isn’t that what it’s supposed to be?
A series of moments
so we can call: “Roll tape!”
until slivers of black plastic
circle on, on
carrying us with it?
Are we all but one freaking
square on the roll, now,
that I must expect you to remain
in one essence of your human
being; flawed, whole.
“How do we make the squares?” you ask.
It’s like when we took a walk in stark sunlight
and you had kept your sunglasses on
so you stared into the bulb,
as if awaiting a past or future burst of energy–
but you realized all we have is light.
January 29, 2014