BPR 52 | 2025
a problem of numbers
in rows like sunflowers
their sum differences
the size of a space of a letter
to be apart instead
of a part
in isolation we watched
the unthinkable
like tiger king and the deer
walking downtown streets
in nashville I grew old
and was born again
ten thousand times
in three years
the tick tock of everything
mass multiplied
by the speed of light—
one last airplane
blinked overhead like the moon
was a raccoon with a stick
through its neck
pointed at hidden water—
sometimes it’s best to just say a thing
“we’re all different now”
us, you, we, i—small, imaginary
numbers measuring
the infinitesimal change
or exponential swell of a moment
like you and i
when we took that trip to the drive-in
coke and milk duds
how caramel tasted like sky.