A billion fingerprints on a dollar bill
Only wash the hands
After wiping forth and back
Habits accumulate and
Tend to follow
Or tend the rabbits
But anyway
The second path
Is always
Incommodious
And then from outer space
Half a flick of dust
Only palpable
In someone's memories
On someone's mind
Behind the eclipse
And the bright lights
Face to face
You are a block
Of organic matter
Stuffed with minerals and latency
A resonance in the air
Heavily drifting
One picometer above the ground
Hazardous vibes of tranquility
Are emanated by the frustration
Of fuzz
Covering the back and neck
Not being able to come to an end
Overextension
Where the point meets the previous point
The perfect angle
And a goosebump followed by goosebumps
Tend and stretch to reach
But all little fingers choke
Are tips of pint-sized bunnies
The color of mist