rodeo.
I saw fit to blunder
near the blond lake.
who was the circumference
of choice I want to know.
yellowpale dandies yet.
but blinking also
meant the world about
to fake an outerness.
was it windows
I foreswore. was it
the bake of being
staged to stratus.
or the monacle
that left
premises.
maybe hindsight
is a knack the world has
fed upon fed open
federally fresh or
noon lined world.
the free zone of the fake
smattering gives gold
its reach.
retire said she.
I was not watching I was
doing. I am always
here said I.
I am always probability
leaving a firm place.
that place. that haven.
discarded as if
by choice.
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