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You would think not wouldn’t you? . . .

especially in those moments

when you're imagining a quartet of abstractions

posing as the four seasons

on the Outer Banks

while in this big rig

you are being strip-searched

by a string of tangled marionettes

who couldn't care less

about your precious autofictions . . .

It's bending time, yes? . . .

The smooth sailing before the plug is pulled

the plagiarized love notes

from odysseyites en route to the Gates  of Hell . . .

The voiceovers persist . . .

a discordant feed to the  rehearsal  

when you're hit with that same old same old . . . 

Antonio Palmerini

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You're trying too hard to make do with whatever

was brought to bear on the latest makeshift . . .

Of course this will go down and then it won't . . .

comparison shopping breeds confusion . . .

you've seen evasions rippling through

as the shoals of vexation mutate into a muddled equation . . .

Impressionable temporaries, yes? . . .

with moments of grammar drilling down

and then the main attraction appears as if . . .

Antonio Palmerini

 

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Your halter top loosens for a motorcycle working

through the gears of epistemology

as if the nothing in the epic is worth mulling over . . .

Generations of mimes have done this

for outpatients who in sultry moments

defer to traffic signals coded to lie . . .

AI for all, yes? . . .

Yeats appears in a side street black Subaru

to advance yardage as specced in the last episode . . .

perhaps the last episode as we wander

across the mind's moors singlehandedly

expecting closure . . . but noone will be there . . .

Can you imagine the anticipation

at this time of year when all by default are bemoaning? . . .

Forget it, the creek has embraced a perpetual shudder . . .

The facades with their onomatopoeias

capturing moments on the fly as is so often the wish . . .

Understanding will arrive in a Cybertruck

as you remove your Uggs

to enter a marsh in search of the assignment . . .

Yes, you're hoping an enhancement . . .

And if it doesn't, you will still be able to scroll . . .

Antonio Palmerini

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Your dream in a dream, shifting down, recalibrating . . .

the shoulders seductive

their angularities mesmeric . . .

Vendors arrive, and fishmongers . . .

Wine glasses mingle . . .

Bangles promise other worlds . . .

And now you're crossing the street,

and she's asking . . . something? . . .

Sit down on this bench, please, take a break, rewind the tape . . .

Meanwhile, in the park, The Life of Pi . . .

Antonio Palmerini

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Artifactuals like cluster fly innuendos . . .

suitcases left open . . .

Never again, yes? . . .

You are adamant about hyperbolic clickbait

stretching late night moments

into roundabouts

with red double-decker buses

checking overdue promises that once held . . .

And only now you worry the elements? . . .

First paint a cage with an open door . . .

Your books fester

raking words for combinations of letters . . .

The UPS truck will see you now . . .

Antonio Palmerini

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You ignore repetitions . . . fractals . . .

an infinity of repeats

and squeeze into a backbend . . .

departures circling in a rattletrap

as if and only if the unloved

forgotten . . . momentarily . . .

surge to forgiveness . . .

How many times will the times beckon

intimating disposable

without really thinking it through . . .

not unlike Wittgenstein's

If a lion could speak . . .

The probabilities at the table

in the windowless room

plastered with Vermeers

sometimes go viral

when bad stuff happens

and people want to confirm their confusion

or mystify their position . . .

Too precious . . .

Choose small in big

and with that the elements of chance . . .

Of course, you may lust . . . out of desperation . . .

watching sculls turn the stake

in an oil by Eakins . . . and You Are There

with Walter . . . Sunday evenings

at seven . . . always . . .

Wanda Choate