so many are fleeting, fast-footed that

no trail emerges tactile or frequent enough

for your ever-aging eyes and mind

business is a tricky tell

all those long stares and longing

lift nothing off the ground

anymore

not a leaf, not a wish, not a pebble

all are pulverized in averted gazes

gambled movements and desires

freakishly fallable but

delicious as the human popsicle

in a human  

no sign is left visible

without

friction by time, or air, or love, or hate

on and off skin maps

add all the elements ad infinitum

and while you sigh insight

with violent visions

dead end in silence

atoms collide irrespective of you

Image: Arthur Boyd