Subtitled: In Lieu of the Anti-

I understood the irony of my last manifesto & counting hours ‘til
some undefined meeting of eyes & hands & bellies, but held fast to
“Right” as though definition could implant itself somewhere between us &
equals sign – Forgive fallacy & find my clarity in neglecting Winter’s
first falling for hands in pockets & cold-like symptoms in wind, soft
brushing & blushing; I sought shelter & reviewed footage of the month-
later, noted ghosts keeping warm over your shoulder, play of light on
glass, connection therein to back roads, deft fingers scaling buttons,
unthinking drawing of covers over in gratitude & warm kiss, mouth
open, explaining light shifts or the serifs of signage so my half-smile
mirrors yours in the still-frames. I forgot you, et al, today in myself —
a place I don’t often reside, despite living in the general sense, &
realized the “where” in which you speak, solaced in sunlight, then
pressed firm with fingernails the edges of vinyl insisted between
fingertips in the deadzone of 11th Avenue. Habit’s rapidly falling away
into the gaps between these letters & the pure whites of calendar
boxes containing no names and single-word schedules: Work, Write,
Breathe, Forget, Begin, & perhaps Again; see, if the visual for this dwelt
amongst timelines & textbooks with self-affirming titles, you’d appear
as halfway point – 6 of 12 hashmarks or more Salome dancing than
gripping the scalp of the sanctified, this translating to insistence
of Change being the brand scarred in your wake, a ticket more
permanent than the bruises I originally predicted you’d wield for
weapons or placemarkers. If bottlecaps turned to coins I’d prob’ly
turn a damned profit & still only send the nonsense of ill-advised affection
to all, so I salute your tactics in spacing & wait for loud noises & lights
before ordering French toast or sifting the salt with the flour.