You thought you could unravel the laughter
aloft in strange machines
piloted by novitiates grown weary of story telling . . .
When the time comes, yes? . . .
The ink dissolving . . .
The audience exiting . . .
Remarkable in your post-Vanna White protocol
smoothing archaeological ruin from the third century BCE . . .
Surprisingly easy to walk the straight and narrow, yes? . . .
How many have adjusted contrasting embellishments
and resumed play . . . as if it were nothing? . . .
Pawn to Queen-Four . . .
Happenstance knocking at the door . . .
Time to re-enter the crinkled photos
when box lunches rode roughshod over delegates . . .
Begin mute . . .
Make a left turn here
while the voiceover is catching its breath . . .
Imagine circumvention . . .
Count the number of bagels in a baker's dozen
to help you regain a firm footing
and face the unknown with a patchwork quilt
and matching ambiguities . . .
End mute . . .
You will see what you believe
absent the existential interview and/or debriefing . . .
As you wish . . .
the main character was heard to say
before remembering forgetfulness
as if one two three threw open a portal
to a magic kingdom . . .
We are reminded of incidentals
echo chambers
classrooms filled with images of recipes
for navigating life's eddies . . .
The traffic ramps up
inspiring us to confront the dilemma of remainders
as if jumping the gun meant more . . .
Your six-year-old can do this, yes? . . .
