Basilisk

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We don’t consider other people’s sorrows/joys on the sidewalk

We can’t

                         We focus on the maps of tar and gum

Majesty in the terroir

               The civic infrastructure that necessitates a sidewalk protecting or alienating

These veins spider our city

                                                    The cause celebré

Words painted on the sidewalk fading and illegible if they

               ever even were words or we have imbued mess with spirit

Hallways we haven’t stepped in in years have

                                                 gone on being cleaned

               Are they a continuation of the sidewalk

All paths connected the continent over

               Flying and floating paths connecting the continents

A plane a hallway a sidewalk a boat a place for feet

I touch the ground and it touches my friends’ remains

               Are we together

                               Your personal record for days without crying from

                                                              sorrow or joy

                                                      Mine is hundreds of days not to brag 😉

I pay hundreds of dollars to relive my particular

               trauma and it hasn’t given me anything yet

I try to make it a good/fun story for the mostly stranger on the couch

The sidewalk continues up into us

                                                changes our structure

               As the spirit of language changes our structure

               The ghost of language little transparent pieces

               everybody tries to reassemble

That echo of a stubbed toe                               Pain its own language our fluency varied

The median, the neutral ground

                      People spilling from buildings to join the

system in wail and celebration