when I stare at the sun I see large shadows sneaking up behind me

the pavement becomes a hover board

the red lights an intersection filling spider web

the green light is farther than I can swim.

every morning I check the GPS, reading letters instead of numbers,

sometimes cyrillic, an erupting snowflake barcode
if one hands a smart phone & the other’s a satellite dish

how do I respond to everything informing me?

at this speed I just register outlines and let the colors fill themselves in

as long as I can see my feet I wont be too late
opening the door I smell dissipating patience

two flies imitating a three stringed viola

a wall studded with LEDs, dozens ripe enough to eat
as long as there’s oxygen there’ll be coffee

you can pay with clothes, dna or electricity

five cars starting at once form a chord I swoon

so many sandaled feet with flowers between the toes

so many encrypted accents I forget I’m alone & let the questions loose