that I can no longer appreciate:
copilot, cage, trouble, taciturn.
The shortest distance between
two points is a line.
Euclid once defined the point as
that which has no part.
Analog watches have approximately
one-hundred and eighteen parts,
and I could not give less of a shit
I'm sorry for the mischief.
This isn't going very well.
I dreamed that we were snowed in
at a motel in Philadelphia.
I pointed out the window and said,
"I have been here before,"
except this time I was delighted.
I think I saw her on the train once.
The orange line, downtown crossing
to north station. She saw me, too.
She was shorter than I expected.
Wore more makeup than I expected.
And I don't know, sometimes the room
is soft yellow, sometimes it's not
a color at all. I am still adjusting
to this new sense of vision.
It doesn't make very much sense.
I imagine that in another life --
well, I imagine many tangents,
but I will start small:
I could listen to a song about New Hampshire
and feel joy.