why_why

three red cups, stacked
i document
to say yes
yes, my victimization
the knife wound of being alone
together or
of
waiting
for the reveal- for
the dust cover
of love to come off,
and then
finding that
the chemistry book is
Just Mathematics:
a long pause-
as this sun set slips in
the lids, rawly ground
by
the history of oil stains and
foot prints,
do you remember the pennies you once found,(?)
the pennies, like a lady
like a mother, like
the hen woman
of
each old cage, do you
remember the finding of lies behind
each specific thing and the truth
being only the way words string together
like popcorn garland,
hung for a Christ less
Christmas in July if only to make it
too funny to hate the whole goddamn
thing.