all the endless bends

All the Endless Bends

By not stating we were going anywhere in particular

the feathery mackerel scales of two hours ago were beginning

to recognize what was within human limits, but just barely

relied mostly upon mechanical devices. You had to work to screw

a social rule of how anyone should dress. But we were not in

largely sleepless nights—there after the nurses finally turned

from every balcony and roof like hastily stabbed pushpins

that only Superman can hear when you pull out the stem

under a fresco of drowning popes. I knew what it felt like

as a child might passing near a haunted house. Are there

covers pulled up: a fortress of privacy breached by

the barren control room? What if those taloned feet

had been afraid: to go fast was to conform to the

feel that life is but a joke.