Three Species of a Secret

(2) Convincing

It was focus that broke my kaleidoscope (now I'm less careful). By the time the riot subsided, a diagram of how-high-the-moon and the indiscriminate silence lifted into bloom/extinction. Two male Negros with walkie talkies. The losses by fires alone could be heard and spied across empty grocery... I'm applying to be on the cover of a cereal box holding an alto and a football and... the boss says I'll get a promotion if I lend him my image, he promises, crosses his heart, I can keep my teeth apart and every seventh portrait will be donated to the league and I'll never be lonely, he promises me poems and brightmoments' maps made of fire alone, I am. Lost. Nestled in his atonement is a limit I call limbo/lovecall/sambo's all-alter-lap/ a pale slapstick myth we get deliberate for your mind did set me ticking like a fat gold watch but that doesn't mean I'll offer you what time it is, nor that I'm looking for you in the caustic leap across myself, I refuse, I'd rather be anything than a duty, in other words, I am three, but the lens lied as well as he did, just as well, no melody is steep enough or narrow enough to see up these skirts of us. So we burn our own road, so we build it over again, the same way, a tired trade. The man I love is very boring and predictable, not tall, half handsome, almost famous, insane, perfect almost, cruel, bashful, less and less special except for what he keeps to himself and keeps calling by my name

(3)