there are the greats, the goods, and the duds.
this triptych differentiated, edited *infintaneously, in this macrocosm, quiet.
where man meets self and self meets journey, the mind a floating invisible thing.
never to be touched by self.
only to be unfolded where the glossary reads, “all that you are is temporary.”
my peonies are blooming, but my trash bin stays at the end of my driveway still.
my record collection outgrows its magazine rack, but I still can’t whistle.
my bedside trunk stays strapped above ground, unlike the mysterious woman who owned it before me.
is there a word for holding all the pieces of yourself and in agony, wanting someone else to hold some too?
if I had to choose one, quiet.
*infintaneously: a cross between infinite and instantaneously. I enjoy making the reader question their own grammatical morals as much as I enjoy making my own rules.