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I have idiots made of clouds
  throwing drinks and laughing loud
I have patterns of yarn and tacks
  in the shapes of railroad tracks
I have heretics smothered in shame
  who are trying to clear their name
But where are you?

I have libraries of landscapes
  their color of rust is green
I have letters I wrote in wartime
  but they're all addressed to me
I have prisoners dressed in sequins
  but they say we're all free
Are you one of them?

I was wrapped in a shell
  and shot in a line
A ballistic point on a map, aimed
  towards the edge of my mind
I still have my best guess
  but I'm running out of time
Can you see me anymore?

Put yourself in my mind
  as a swan in the sky
We'll be fleshy and untangling
  but we're not really mine
We are not merely questions
  or the cones in my eyes
But if you play the odds,
we were never even here.

October, 2013 

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