They Usually Talk to the Winners

This is the way it was then: the trees were still alive and moving very slowly away. We’d have to keep replanting them in the city. Years pass, they incrementally jump the fence and escape. You’d see them partway in the neighbor’s, partway in the neighbor’s neighbour’s yard. Hiding, and, at the same time, running.



Belt too tight.
Temperature crammed to the top of the flushed tits with people smell.
Carpet silence exhaling windows.
Wont come down and just sit and seat.
Eats coins no belts no opening the doors.
The mouth the eyes the ears the.
Engine blown speakers teetering on fire.
Over the edge of the cliff sailing.
Ninety miles an hour spit flying well.
Over the line desperately trying to dial.
It back realizing this.
Ripe waiting.
Accident to happen train so happens to be.
for me?


My fault really. I was in the backseat.
My surroundings began to look to me suddenly.
Like, I should leave.
These are exactly the people who used to be the people I truly know!
Watching the new owners as they learn the controls.
Making the hairs stand up one by one.
You’ve been on a rollercoaster before.
Not me.
Four grapes in a jug.
Bouncing around all self-conscious.
Passing through the windows everyone’s wearing.
Just the lamest facial expressions.


Use a worn and damaged ladder.
Paint it (this hides imperfections).
Use it as a platform because as most people don’t know, a ladder is designed with vertical not horizontal strength.
Use it on a scaffold to reach the really high winds.
Put a step ladder on top of that first ladder in a lightning storm.
Arrange for multiple people to stand with you on the ladder at the same time.
Take the top shelf and using every tremulant pixel of your height, try to touch your freedom.
Lean the top of the ladder against glass on an especially cold day, chasing the tiny cars below with the stupid cloud of your breathing.
Give it a chance to sink in.

Leave the ladder unattended overnight.
Try these steps again tomorrow.