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