lost in the circus, again.

or the elephants will get out and forget to remember what you said
and the ferris wheel junkies will spin there forever instead
but if dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts
we'll all be moving slowly slowly south on down the coast

i am wasting my time. [this is me, being restless.]
chain smoking cloves, i am wasting my time.
maybe it is the claustrophobia that i have been
expecting and half-heartedly trying to fight off...
or the sneaking suspicion that i cornered something merely
because it was exhausted from the fight.
my laundry is damp, and refusing to dry.
the pinot grigio hums at the back of my throat, while my thoughts
chase the blue speckled lights of the
circus across the canvas ceiling.

i am reharmonizing to the wrong song. the piano line inspires the words for a moment, but then they flicker and fade away as my fingers race to write them down. i think my heart has grown lazy, and i am having the hardest time bringing it back to zero.

there was a glimpse. sometimes that's all we get.