I’m running out of steam
not really running
or out
it’s just the steam I have
keeps pouring
from my ears or some other place
my mouth perhaps
stuttering white plumes
into the immeasurable air

I see these words
they are not mine
but I ****** at them
like a needy child
who wants a drop of sugar
on their tongue
avoided opportunities
line up in the mailbox
or come through
in a current of pixels
another wave
here’s another wave

and you cannot catch waves
they fall to rise
in the space it takes to say
what are we doing here

they won’t know who you are
unless you tell them
they won’t ignore you
unless you feed them the chances

your breath
rattles in the throat
your head a swarming oven
of half-baked phrases
and burnt segments
of many a yesterday

where you missed the mark
or never hit it

because the steam
that should exist does not

you grab at open doors
knowing you wouldn’t step
inside