Sometimes
I like to imagine someone I know
is in my head
seeing
what I’m seeing
hearing
what I’m hearing
smelling
what I’m smelling
knowing
what I’m thinking.
Maybe I’ll be driving,
eating lunch,
dressing myself,
or rolling over in bed,
and I will suddenly know
someone has stepped in my head
to poke around
for a few moments
like at a roadside attraction.
I like to seem
interesting,
admirable,
laughable,
memorable,
anything but
dull or bland—
If you caught me
brushing my teeth
taking out the trash
or sewing my pants,
I loop a catchy song
in my head
like in an supermarket,
or think some pithy thought
to make you think.
How does the informatics
of the N+7 constructivism
affect our literary undersurface
of post-colonial American
Real Time, and how may one-sidedness
compare it to the theocrats
found in Hellenic Greenbackers?
When I’ve forgotten
you popped in
or didn’t see you walk out,
bored with my every day
bulling around,
I slouch again,
and resume
biting my nails
and hope no one else is window shopping.
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