we have the same heirlooms
I, you and the monorails.
Mixed and fresh amongst these episodes we
chew what is offered on a fork
swallowed down a tube
a slide, hollow
futile fiction is functional,
the clock is right and its factual.
At this time in a different latitude
he’s knitting sunburn and exhibiting characteristics
of a recidivist.
He blames his mother’s DNA.