my breath crests the horizon
like top of bun rising
am I supposed to know 
this recipe or

let what’s real settle in film
of sugar slowly descending
in aftermath from explosion
of some distant bag

when everything is a construct 
suddenly nothing is and I want
to understand my memories 
like burn marks on old pans

want to quantify their cause
like these marks do not obscure hidden stories
and answer- how can I speak in straight lines 
when everything I think is blurry

this softness
extra filling in for good measure