one black stripe and one white stripe sit so solemnly on a small sliver on my skin

somehow it stayed on through friction and dishes

mirror light all around my footless legs

and flannel sheets beneath the dregs  

knees shake and the earth quakes, the aroma of maple syrup wafts through my open mind, oxytocin erupting and cradling it back to Point A

the patterns in the wooden floor shift every season and there never will be a reason

like breathing or blinking or loving or feeling

it just is