about shy the minutes turn their heads away
cover their faces with their hands and say
beep beep. a car on corner. a car heavy with passengers.
a car the way you remember your childhood
smoke and mirrored. blank as faucets, as bank accounts.
i'm no certainty. you've got all the lies you want to tell
and a book for beating the pages out of dust.
to win and swim away from all the podiums. to mis-
spell words and hold people by their tiny hands
and walk crookedly up to a vendor on the street
asking for a quenching thing with a pocket full of change.
yes, it's future times. and no one's flying in their autos yet.
i'll swat the fly until it regrows wings in its Rorschach splat.