by Layne Auburn
A synthetic madness has taken over quite abruptly. A cowardice act of non-conventional rest; tasting of wine.
I’ve been read through pages and tickled under noses – A furry handshake for the man.
And withered beneath my feet? Once was, of course, and what could it have been?
Generator backup plans.
Bundled in Carhartts, skin-lazy from here to bone. I await this soft hell from a Michigan sky.
[I feel as if I should see you before it hits. Though something won’t allow me. Some thing is careful enough to know better.]
Consider me deaf to reason.
Blind to now.
And remember when you see me – huddled against myself, shovel in hand – that I am just like you.
Pains, sorrows, pleasures, guilt.
You will too, some day, be read.
Under a nose.
Tickeled with that furry handshake.
Numb from medicine.
Asking yourself if you should see them under the same Michigan sky.