Layers of colors
of leaves
of hills rolling
breathing
dancing in wind
and for a stretch
of time of light
it’s perfect
nameless
and I am happy
to be aimless
with the wind.

Two people move across the street,
walking together to work, briefcases in tow
but their feet and legs are moving
in a circle, as if they’ve got wheels.
A young girl is heading to the coffee shop
and she walks like she’s a triangle.
I think maybe I’m oval, but I’m not sure.
I watch and wait for a hexagon man,
with so many angles, he finds his way easily
despite a little icy dew.
I’m humming a diamond song
as the mailman stops by,
and I wonder if tomorrow will find
people shapes turn three-dimensional
or if we’ll all be trying to toe a line.

The truck rolls past, blaring music
as the quiet man inside sits very still.
A woman edges her car slowly
out of a parking lot seemingly intent
on escape despite her trappings.
Moving pictures, sleepy spirits.

Success is a ridiculous word
when measured against the business
of deciduous trees in autumn.

The afternoon is a shuddering breath
after a gutless morning
pushed mercy as far away as it could.

Prayers are rising amid the notifications
pulsing from devices everywhere,
making it a crowded atmosphere.
It’s like breathing in graffiti.