From a catalog of indigo
I made us
a carbon copy crowd.
Working in the economies of winters
I never found use for.
Today with only
an average
circumference to pause as
take this weight of my eyes
and our connection enforced yellow.
Seven wonders in our worlds
of new releases, its milk and cookies.
If you gimme
feet in each corner
I’ll show you how to march
the tempered
points of my basal body temperature, count
our photo-sonic states,
condition the light
sensitive cabinets, now we’re cloud seeding.
Each contrail left in Caps
Lock and a prison is hidden in clearing.
If inches are negatives
to a body’s transparency
I let this beep then I count to three.
