My friend said
I talk like another language;
like I’m transposing
all my sentences.

I told him he was right.

But also,
my computer friend said
the sense I make isn’t enough;
like I’m switching instruments mid-song.

I told him he was right, too.

And so dance around the fire
mouthing the words off-tempo,
knowing the set may collapse.

Or instead,
All the ordinary windows
can drop watery curtains
while we sit in the rain.

Feeling the pitter patter
drops percussive
and wanting the next
refrain.

Oh I’m so bad at rhyming!
With such horrible comedic
timing.

And it’s so hard
to know what to say
to different types.

Dante warned against
not taking sides,
but I’m held ajar.

Oh didn’t I cover it all already?
(Burial, Chess, Fire Sermon, Death by Water, Thunder, and the Notes.)
I want to feel
sure that I’ve said too much
so everyone
has a little bit of something.