a tumbleweed rolls past us / under boom gate

/ over train tracks

i think — it belongs in brunswick

more than we do, today
i could reach across the gearstick,

tell you that tumbleweed…. is a diaspore

and a diaspore is anything that carries seeds to someplace else

but i’m trying to sound less like a diaspora poet

and your facts are better than mine
like when you say that vegan fish fingers don’t aim for fish flavours

just for…. fish-adjacent ones

lemon and seaweed, tartare sauce if you please

you call it ‘taste of the sea’ and my greasy tastebuds are fooled
i’ve been camping out in the paris end of insomnia

for a while now

i think the locals hate me …

… or maybe that’s the insomnia talking …
i got the welcome-to-the-neighbourhood pack:

melatonin, weighted blanket,

pass-agg post-it about screen time before bed

like insomnia is a nordic government

and i’m a big baby
and every night i’m doing battle,

fighting for my life under that blanket,

sleep paralysis demon perched on the nightstand

whispering…. “sheep aren’t real”
this feels like an activation phrase

taste of the…. government cover-up

but if i’m a sleeper agent

i’m a bit crap at it
doctor, doctor, i’ve dislocated my spirit

it popped right out of the socket

and the human flesh search engine

isn’t taking my calls anymore