I don’t understand what you’re trying to prove.
That I have nothing to prove.
This path is shadow.
This I know.
Do not follow the other[s]. Let y come and show the way out.
I have a new trust in right angles, perpendicular, vertical
angels. Thank the gods you are vertical, my Angel, A.
Who will lead this dance of broken particulars?
Unskilled in following leads, reading directions,
I bore easily. The mind wanders with the lost violin
off the page. The musical score set afire.
Absence distracts. Not skilled at waiting for what
really? Bring on the gasoline at this juncture
of jumpy birds. We all desire to be adored.