and slippery truths in this world
of conversations
and getting stuck there
in a dream smoking a fake cigarette
on a beach with punks
the roiling waves throw
huge green catfish onto the shore
some just missing us
slamming down dramatically
then a restaurant with radios on every table
that announce how close the holy spirit is
by degrees of latitude and longitude
when it gets within a certain range
everyone scrambles to reign in their sinful behavior
I’ve lost my appetite for complexity
as well as for breakfast
feels like there’s no time for theories
despite tomorrow
tomorrow
tomorrow
and tomorrow