Do not choose but wade ceaselessly. Grab a dolphin's
fin. Do you know of its intelligence? Its
wit and how it fucks for fun? The crumbled castles in
paintings have always impressed me. I could imagine
the crags and dimples of the ruins, familiar as
molars. Sometime later I realized the legacy of those
amorphous masses that hold us tight to their buxom
qualities and the feelings of consistency
and reassurance granted from touching their groove.
Of course now I know that each time it is touched
it is changed, the parts shifted, rearranged,
gumballs departing joyously from their crowded world.
Now I know much better, you can rest assured.
The only thing I want to do now is apologize
and go back to bed. I dream of a light,
not unlike that of the sun reflected off a
dolphin's neutral gray skin. I hear tales of trips
away to bright and yellow lands, their pleasantly
frothing oceans, their dirt cheap drinks. I felt
the draft was excessive. It chilled me and made
me forget what I had come here to do.