From the objective,
You offer what you don't want to give away.
As if hooking me will solve for your unknowns.

I'm here, yo, I'm here.
Don't try so hard.
Don't play it like that.
I give it away for free.
You are craftier than I
with nothing to lose.
Dial that down to simple things.

I don't want you to die,
From the subjective.

I am here, yo, I stand for you.
Can I? I said so.
Throw that log on and watch it smoke.
I don't think anything of me gets in
You're so crowded in there
So many little people pushed into that bus,
a woman with a caged chicken on her lap.
So much baggage. So many limbs.
Miracle these don't fall off the cliffs.

(old poem republished)




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