This is not an exit
That what Brett Ellis said
In restaurant of conspirators
As the victims freely bled
The blood just keeps on pumping
Though they were slain
Months and years ago
For reasons half forgotten
Pushed down so far below
In the back alley
Or on Wall Street
The disconnection
Is the same
To remove what is not desirable
And make them take the blame.

I unspool the silence,
shed the smallness
in my head.

I take it all in,
let my voice swell—
and no longer ask
permission to exit the room.

What would you do
If the aliens came for you?
If they landed and exclaimed
"We seek the one you call(insert own name here)"
Though no purpose they explained
Would you rush to their request
Acquiesce to their behest
Trust em cos that's who you are
An open heart
A mind ajar
The heart wants everyone to know
It welcomes all
It is not cold
The brain though is not so sure
Projected aims may not be pure
It knows our past in microcosm
What the tooled up
To the meek put on em
To collaborate or disappear
Safety now
Else
Posthumous rectitude through the years
They may think you creations saviour
Or are here to punish your foul behaviour
They could want you for what you think
Perhaps they've heard
You like a drink.

Talking to Potato Chips
(I like this one!)

How I Lost My Virginity, page 653.
(some photos)

Standing on a Concave Gardening Chair
to Change a Light Bulb on the Porch

                     or

Concussions Made Easy