change.
2006-06-25 11:34 a.m.
when the change comes up, i am unkind, making myself scarce and thinner by the second, wanting to be liquid, to be something easier by principle - struckby the rigidness of my form, i fell, and contact
didn't push the streets to save me, left us both
collapsed against one another, our atoms
rebounding, the shock sending signals
i could not manage to interpret in this state.
when our mouths finally get to talking, we'll make the interstate a sentence about where we have been, we'll etch our figures, imprints on the future, because we know
that we are not everlasting, we are broken by the daily speed of life. how can the asphalt make it better, how can the body benefit, with oxygen burning down the lines.
this is what it takes to start a fire, you must
bury your head, hold your hands tight to the telephone. this is what it takes to make connection, you'll be forced
to trace those miles subtle over wires and silent signals, over poles and over cities, and you may not be effective
either way, you're heading toward the grave, so why is there this impulse
to make a place?
why is there this impulse toward change?