Time for something not akin to boredom, not anything like dormant. Time to flip up your coattails and pull down your trousers and kick off those spats. Place carefully that fitbit and iphone and kindle and remote starter; your earbuds, your change - on the counter.
Back to the deed.
You won’t really die, will you? Is this rendering rose; this flush of cheeks normal - this pinch, this tickle; this trillium quiver? Lift off - sparks! Snails coalescing - coma victims responding - dams overflowing - trains honking warnings - new hope abounds all across the span of her wide open country, like a fly opens its wings over a trout biting. In the desert a cactus rose is unfolding. A diamondback’s tail shakes a warning. A stroke = limp body. Jaws agape for the lizard swallowing. Your process - your measurements - all your high notes! I blinked, it was over; all of these hijinks - done, forever. I’m going back to the tv - please collect up your armament of things,
and kindly not call me