like stale bread
i am a little like stale bread
as crusty inside as i am outside
and laying still on this abandoned dish
on this thin glass plate awaiting butter
or maybe gravy
wondering how gravity allowed these
invisible things
to leave me brittle
and white
i’m wondering when my life will
come to a sputtering halt or if
this is just the moment where everything
slows down just before taking off
every day i forget 100 essential things
every night i dream a dozen
meaningless dreams
and sleep becomes less and less appealing
i tried to catch your scent on the breeze
lifting off the lake
i caught nothing
the breeze was too weak
off the evaporating pond and
barely brushed the cracking earth
i slept and dreamt of a thousand locked doors
and a hundred useless keys
and at least a dozen reasons
why it didn’t matter anyway
i just wanted to smell you on the breeze
and paint a picture of it