free flipping September 18

free flapping wings
of a demented bird.

I make biscuits
the energy I see flickering,
on my filament.

splashing my scooter through puddles
I look at people I look at choices
I think of my empty verse, I think of my promises.

swinging into the middle of this
you shade in your pictures extensively.
you rarely smile and I rarely wait
we talk of the day,

ours for the naming.