and does
it sound
like singing?
I daydream
genuinely of
becoming so
large, I
could pluck
trees out
of the
ground like
apple stems.
I overthink
tremulously, don’t
you think?
I think
about how
billions of
years of
evolution have
placed me
directly to
where you
are browsing.
I can’t
believe it!
Do you
believe in
little green
men or
gods only?
Are you
along the
certain type
to paste
together lucky
coins and
echoey wells?
I’m the
type to
believe this
morning, I’ll
feel small
like how
in some
ways, I’m
still accumulating,
as if
what comes
next outlines
the width
of what
time for
me remains.
No one
expects to
become an
exhibit. No
one predicts
the isthmus
will plunge,
to wash
our feet
and glut
the house,
to spill
the violas
beyond the
lawn, to
wake us
while the
crickets sing
