Yard Sale of Thoughts

To be in the presence of something

massive—

something dizzying, unblinking,

impassive.

To hear hours and hours of static.

Poolside fountains,

car bumpers, and walking overpasses—

in morning’s glare,

chromatic.

To be in the belly of a whale,

swallowed whole,

sitting passive.

To dream of stars in neon afterglow,

join the slow shuffle,

swallow down the panic.

What will fill our fabled sails?

Where will this whale land us?

I”m shedding galloons

to the city streets,

where some will

starve while some will feast.

I’m learning my own privilege,

in the total darkness of a stranger’s stare,

but will anybody find this tragic?

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Cover Art: Whale Market “Local Food Court On Sukhumvit 16 Alley”