By myself,
in a roadside motel,
for work.
Do you think Chicago
remembers me?
That was my last pit stop,
before heading to business.
Lost my phone,
a few days prior
at a wedding reception
that I was crashing
in the Willis Tower.
so I go an an adventure,
walk along
past bars and beasts
of the dusk day.
Main Mississippi towns
are funny and weird:
I had never been,
but it felt comfortable nostalgic.
I hear Patsy Cline somewhere,
singing.
I see the boots of men,
a world in which I have never been.
Girls play a game at the Elvis at 13 statue.
I don't understand much,
but it is fun to watch tiny parts of the world,
like places like this,
without investing in any part
but the drawing of a piece of day,
a chunk of time,
a blink of the eye in the universe,
but with so many other universes
twirling there way
in the midst of each other.
I orbit other people
and this place in their life,
without any cause but cornea and retina,
because, oh, the lucky joy and unmerciful feel
when you look someone in the eye,
as they pass by, and guess at their whole life.
choice is the decision of the universe's pseudo-decisions,
which is always gonna service resistance,
but in Tupelo on a Wednesday,
I like to watch people walk by
and wonder about their reasons why,
their darkest times, their silver fires,
to the hearts that beat beneath the curtains called chest,
all starts in some other circling system.