the central plan, the plane of existence

walking, talking, driving

the “I” hosted a cat, a friend’s father’s funeral

the Friday and how academia turns into a black hole

while you roll into a mere machine part manifest of the paycheck

while the transcendentalist naively, childlike, ran after the

blue ball bouncing endlessly towards the streets

the street car named desire

to say the stars are not eternal, nothing is eternal

except for the moment you forget in gleaming eyes

like perfect mackerel essence, you do not exist except

you do not talk about, you do not daddy talk about

fight club called life

for the moment you become one with your cigar, sun, unfulfilled

desired photographs feigning peoples

faking unlikes, un-passions, and pullbacks

nature already stillborn, inside is there insipid hope?  

Image: Julia Soboleva