the weight of those great decisions and
the trick of how to know how to thrive
—maybe add a photo to the post—
bubbling black bile and moldering plans
of, yes, I suppose I’ve lost you now
so let’s check in on the detective
and those spotty hands maundering
among our dark drawers and under things
—thump—a quick novel sensation—a dense
syrup in the major muscles—
half a conversation running along
without us then gone, back to slow
daylight grumbling nasty thoughts what can I
exploit from that dismal green land
other animals 