day EIGHT HUNDRED and SIXTY EIGHT

a simple place to be alive

it was around the end
of the oculist's revolt
periodically my department lacked
the random access

specifically i did spirit transplantation
and ancillary time-travel support
we were having issues with the
"see no evil" proclamation

souls kept rolling away -
picture phosphorescent hula hoops
on fire in the rain
we met in the lunch-room at work

you were on a break
i was deviating as usual
if deviation can be normative
pretending to wait

for you to finish

with the microwave 

i mumbled hurry drunken angel 

you said i wait for them 

stream of consciousness
back to the geneva landing site
the ground even and fine
indivisible

as any beginning
and the end of love 

if we failed
the capitalist's misuse

of the large hadron 

collider would instantly pull all of reality
into a hole smaller
than the head of a pin

stepping off the tele-pad
you whispered
i want to walk with you
and safe at the edge of the forest

touch the bark of trees
see gloss in everything the way
light shines off
the nails of your fingers - listen more

closely - hear the colors
blue and green
like an argument between
the pine trees and the rain

due west we spied
a fallen tongue
of leftover rail
and followed it

kids walking the tracks
at summer-set
screaming for the moon
to wait its turn

that’s all i want for people again
in a dream of floods
the way a dam
remembers why

--Paul Koniecki