of days
numbers fall
out again,
so
the
sun glass
kissed
a curve
melting plastic cups
and
shopping
bags,
right where
you use to live,
you know
this
by
ushers in crisis
our
starburst
faces
reflex
non-permanent
futures
of work
looks at that
resist
and
cleansed
kiss
to
pith
you out
from
infinity
exit
on balance
the chance
is blank,
see where
chancres
so truly
mine,
made hard
our sift,
we
threw out
glassed-in
by our
cicatrix
binding
