there’s a half-life to our interacting.
and I am a scientist, scrutinizing it.

a certain proximity, and I
am irradiated, by you, anew,
every time.

I am burned up.
frayed,
and right here, on display.
taking diligent notes on the fallout
today, in this wasteland.


I search the ground
with my hand and
an eyeglass.



I shouldn’t like what I find.