GENTLE

I have no reason to bore you and yet with a face like that what are we to expect? Another exhale. Rain falls. There is talking downstairs or the television or somewhere we can’t walk. A brain inside a skull. Without a window to enter, and without a need to break in, we can accept the no trespassing sign with relief. To break the law is to neglect the confines of appreciation, and this would permit a faulty stance on what isn’t moving unlike the earth, which rotates, it too a mirror of what mannequins more closely resemble—yet are farther from the distance, as plastic is to skin. This keeps us close. More close than speaking, and what speaking gathers when crossing space and time. Beside slides through an invisible door and walks down a non-existent corridor and whispers to the door at the end of the hallway: “we’ve just begun.” There isn’t any recognition that ripples over a lake in the town next to this one occurring because there is no one in this present moment who could possibly report on dinosaurs. Each aftermath is an already and already is as fresh as what allows pulse land in definition of its significance. What isn’t dead is within motion’s reaching hand. Extending out a point to the shade of a tonal-typography found in the reaction of a housecat, but the moon point enough; and perhaps this is where a paper napkin folds and is placed within the nearest gentle pocket.

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