Swipe Right

We are apposed

No matter what the TV head says

Sometimes by no more than a wrapped candy

Sometimes by entire place names on a map

A box of trivial nothings

A chest or previously kist

And then we are kids again

I on the inside of a geometric dome

You walking in slow motion with wind effect

Why do you do that?

And how do you get the wind to abide?

Never no matter

You could drop your books a million times

Forget your lunch

Or break your paper maché man with top hat

It wouldn't matter

We would be apposed 

Diametrically they say

Although I must admit

I feel as though that connects us forever

Like a spoke on a wheel

Inside a Minsk forest from the eye of a bird

But it was just a collection of years

That happened

Between the building of one spoke

And the path to the other

That leaves us 

Hanging

In space

Like a midriff top

On a monchichi

And yet better that way

Because the TV says we can't get old

But believe me it's the best part

Because disintegrating 

Is the closest we will come 

To being whole again

Leave your chin, I say

And the pebbles in your belly

There is purpose in that penchant

If for nothing else but to tell a story

A certain slant

A sidewalk that triangulates 

Schoolyards everywhere

Making notes obsolete

As we unglue our feet 

From the spin we are in

And try to head-butt Sputnik




Gary Memi

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