exercise in futility

at the end of the day
i have tried that ritual of writing down
one sentence to sum up
the day

one sentence from the day
for the whole day

such as

a woman walked into the cafe and says it’s cold out there to no one in particular

or

a man ran for the bus cursing to himself

or

i found one shoe in the bathroom and one shoe in the kitchen

yet

one sentence will lead to another
with all the spaces in-between

the spinoff of the day

promenade

a snarl of pedestrian traffic
in fine periwinkle threads
and the first pastels of the year

to see and be seen
and be seen again

he says aesthetically the mirror interests me
she says can you believe my luminosity

the rarest embellishments
lavished upon the scene
such drama of color and potency
while fantasies become
a mere habit of the mind

reading of palm

she graped my wrist
pulled my hand closer to her eyes

she decifered
a language from before everything

when our hands were of wet clay
and they impressed our destiny into soft skin

she offered one last elucidation
my hand close to her eyes

you are a new soul
and it all made sense

why the planet’s spin
always threw me off balance

why i could not understand
the language between you and i

a language from before everything
when our hands were of wet clay
and they impressed our destiny into soft skin