There's always been something calming about January sweat with the window open
and bruises making home on every inch of my neck.
If anyone were to ask "What's the matter?" I'd like to reply with
"Nothing, it's all vibrations of energy slowed enough to be perceived,
and these marks on my throat haven't been in the shaped of fingers since seventh grade."
I learned how dung beetles use the Milky Way Galaxy to guide themselves
but I take direction from people who shine twice as bright.