Screen Dump 873

You're buried in a potboiler on the beach

in the middle of a turkey sub

wondering what hasn't been done

and done again as life is done

in watermelon sugar

with how-to's what-not's and what-ever's . . .

Will time tell beyond the plantar fasciitis

springing up with every step

of an insistent go-between? . . .

Why go between, yes? . . .

Why the culinary curves of odysseyites

in anorexic kitchens? . . .

Why late at night lying in bed

without the gift of sleep

you dream archival footage to be found

in discovery among trembling windows

with offcolor shutters? . . .

Why the shake, rattle, and roll? . . .

Antonio Palmerini

Screen Dump 872

Your life skirts the edge of a backstory

looking out from within

with information overload ready to pounce . . .

How quaint, yes, this throwback

to earlier, safer times . . . cushioned

by innocence and ethical underpins . . .

Sitting on your hands will be zoomed

but think of the day's other options . . .

When will it stream on Netflix? . . .

When will it arrive? . . .

When will it close? . . .

You’re about to shift into overdrive

which is nothing compared to the day's triggers

awaiting mispronunciation in the condiment aisle

coupon-slingers milling about . . .

I saw you there in all your paginations

colorful and wonderful and anticipatory . . .

as if your flight had been rerouted

in the last quarter

of your shortlisted autofiction . . .

Antonio Palmerini