Predator at Bay
Dead dog on road your eyes
are closed to all before you.
You silently shift in the alabaster
moon glow of traffic death.
How can this be the same world
as all the others?
turn around and face it
βLust/Cautionβ is always in my queue
right behind βThe Iceman Comethβ
Like some random particulate
like something I donβt control
One of many things Iβll never get to
like Capoeira or bonsai trees.
(I feel pain the way sunlight feels pain
when trapped inside an ice cube)
turn around and face it
The thing that makes it hard to talk
when no one else is talking
The thing that made them make Osiris
the thing that makes us make robots
Deep Blue, you beat me
All the things Iβve gathered
are stuck outside the door.