Human flourishing
is not happening across the street
in that house
under wispy blonde bangs
behind wilted eyes.
It's not happening on the street corner
inside that consumed coat
though the red beret tries it best
to signal intrepidity.
Human flourishing
is not in line for recently unfrozen croissants
and something hot in a paper cup.
It's not in a zoo on the loose side of bars not in
old coughing cars is not
seated at a desk entering numbers
entering numbers
entering numbers
entering all day long numbers.
Human flourishing
is not melted into microwaved cheese.
It's not in the mail threatening bank accounts.
It's not having solitary sex in the same old pajamas at the same old computer.
Human flourishing
is not on television chanting doomsday and draperies.
It's not down the electronic rabbit hole
presenting like it takes her everywhere but chains
her to a tiny screen.
Human flourishing is not a unicorn.
And yet
it's not happening
on that face so disappointed
at the ATM.
Unbecoming
So alive.
So interested in air.
Mutiny shatters inertia.
Turns the law to dust on your lips.
It's unbecoming.
Tradition can't meet your demands.
Shadows leap out of your skin and run after the fool
you've been unbecoming.
Deserting totem and taboo.
Unbecoming you.
Tomorrow
something will still drink rain from the sky.
Something so alive.
So interested in air.
ISOLATION
O IT'S A LION.
ITS NAIL, OO!
I ON TAIL SO
IT NAILS, OO!
I TOO SNAIL
I SLAIN TOO.
O LO I STAIN.
O SAIL NOT I.
O IT'S A LOIN
SO I LOAN IT.
A SOIL ON IT?
O IT'S AN OIL
STAIN TOO. I
TOIL SO AN I
SIT ALOON. I
ANTI-SOLO I.
O I LOST IN A
I S O L A T I O N.
IT IS A LO, NO?
