what’s a story anyway but some connect the dots drawing that in the end forms a picture or something?

in times of trouble a movie about nothing helps

stacked frames of random images about nobodies and anythings

wispy white cotton in the wind and blue stockings

strange saxophones from underground train stations and moving staircases

long corridors and the sound of footwear slipping and sliding a knock or two at a time

bruised knees have more remedies than boredom

calendula and arnica that burn and cold water to wake the dead

nails can grow long to touch that line that forms between two green veins

can tear in curved lines through fibrous orange wedges

permanent vacations look like old graffiti on the wall

playing mute observant to shit stains and golden showers

beach winds smell of rotting fish and mango dreams

long afternoons like dots in the sand

till the eyes go white in the blinding sun