Drawn by a jealous moon and tethered to an unconscious coastline,
this undefined place in me rolls like a twisted tide.
The joke: the place is between my head and my heart, my voice. I speak
to draw the two together, like a bugling elk looking for its mate,
like a hawker at the fairgrounds selling nothing for something,
like a mime.
My brain, immoveable in its surety, bored as a rock.
My heart, flooding, looking like a silly pool of cream,
eventually changing, my very mind.
And still my voice, its constant chatter, keeping me awake or asleep or whatever…
While the disconnected parts of me work overtime to find each other,
and make me whole.