Make Eye Contact

A cold wave laps the damp

warm stillness

on the 

beach of veins in the 

fingertip universe.

 

The speakers,

ba-bum, ba-bum,

dribbles.

 

We all collect

in prayer

as focus.  

Worry chokes me, like

judgement.

 

I am huge, the electricity

lighting up the edge of

my face, 

flesh to air. 

 

Where does one stop?

 

 

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