LOOP

ben has a dip between his eyes, fingerprint sized. he’s worried about the moving squares of days. i go monologue dominatrix at the podium. life is flat, do life this way, infuse it. for we are parched. sick of words i mean. speculative scramble truths. he believes me urgently then hides behind the brush. cognitive congestion, trying to saline my way somewhere alpine. the coffee coats my teeth, fills each broken cavern. the flame jumps to study measured time. wheels and digging sticks, pots and seed pods lined up on the laundry log. flash to eating sour pasta salad happily on the dusty river rocks. flash to prejudice against white twinkle lights, the sterile A-frame. flash to our backs inverse kissing the height, sun drinking skin back, bullies daring each other to plunge a cooler heaven.