I Tell Myself

that the politician
the lost plane
the discarded wedding ring
the laundromat
the floaters on the cornea
the woman’s curves
the empty factory
the nursing home
the ciphers on the forearm
the fist
the messy democracy
the nocturnes of Chopin
the hospital corridors
the feet sleeping in the doorway
the blank page
the love you hate
the Adult shop
the scatter of butterflies
the burnt manuscript
the syringes on the backstreet
the blond Chinese
the talking audience
the children without mothers
the misunderstandings
the no-through road
the puddle of urine in the lift
the drunk conductor
the busker in a suit
the car in the driveway
the passing train
the hive of marine life
the caged-hen eggs
the running bucks
and the other animals

are just some broken bits
of a joker’s kaleidoscope
within which we tumble and fall

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