this instant.

Image

 

I am in the foggy hamster ball

that likes to swerve to objects of greater gravitational stamina

or it is thrown aimlessly across the fences

by undercooked young men

and everything is so whimsical

when I try to palm-kiss the plexiglass

sorry, the man stiffens his eyes and looks me up and down

this is not a day for visits

the first time she laid there

motionless, afraid she might break or soil something so new

with a hair-clip on her fingernail parted in the middle

she said, don’t look back, take care of your own lives

and a dusty spaldeen was stuck in my throat

just like the bulbs growing in her strawberry tree

that light up so easily these days

I tried to push it back

no no no no no no no no no no

I said NO

and I forgot about it the second I said it

there’s a steamed up painting

but it changes with each new water-filled balloon

that billows on baby’s nose and mouth

you want to make it go away

but it is hard to do so

this instant

isn’t it?

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