Day Six (written, but not posted, on time)

i didn’t have the heart              to

        

            every time i      open

            begin the slow process

of staggering   like   the weather

so i took sharpies        &        i found people

      living in their pockets    

i was taking a break from       good

                        crazy excited

for the tips of your hair,       diving and rattling   into

length,

           for now

i was born       institutional

             along the lines of

    what it would           sound like

    to swallow   your ear.

sometimes

  i can’t   tell   the    difference

between

                              thinking and       being quiet,

you, like           daily bread

so big      when i think about            how you got here