report 000022: intermezzo

the scent of song-loss, it seems, but, waking, one recalls--don't be dull. don't be dull. violating protocol: i have missed you for so long. it feels more, now-familiar that loosening of

syntax, splay in parabola, mind cryo-kept, careening. but this gives it the lie, empty bed or no. from having had your eyes i asphalt-slam see that now truly: each pebble torn from the road differs from its (br)other, though i catch the scent too late, perhaps, to cry victory to you. one's formlessness echoed back has a form in fact if not in truth. you were always a master of the unanswered, church-key in hand poised grinning shiftlessly pardon my adverbs you see all

is not well with me. but they layer, & they layer, & later we will find them in a Texas schoolyard afterhours, to giggle at the break between terms. they all know your name, & your nationality. i will not be deceived any longer. i will sign

for that parcel. perhaps tomorrow there will be a bird winging the welcome news of error. perhaps i am a fool, & lonely. to be frank has never been my strong suit; it fits ill. but here, shards flying stop-motion i remember, my brother-in-arms the sun rising over the coliseum, through you, through you, singsong & ill-favoured, mi amo. there will be no hearing now.

there has not been, nor will ever. but i remain as in an unfamiliar city, hands unclasped, & there will be a lord for my laughter, & the shadows shall flee away. they say, but as in a dim city i live already, though i will skew as ever my commas in hopes of drawing you home.