i sit in a back-row seat view and
build up neat rows of cells
to sit, blurry-eyed, and watch
regular coils, wreathes,
noting degeneracies in the
way anyone whispers
1.12am secrets; in my sense
of pre-packaged sanctity:
no matters could be more
unimportant than these i keep
in ever-revolving displays,
to pluck out whilst heading
somewhere or anywhere -back home, i guess,
where else do i go?-
and anticipation wouldn't so
much as slightly glance a
warning, again whispering:

"you'll never get any better than this.
you'll never get any lower than
this afternoon the moon will suspend
itself in the sea and
you won't even care enough to watch."

further out, i am
ankle deep and
my eyes are stuck shut.