I twiddle clumps of chalk into a dusty line and unravel them into nothing,
I like lines, the thin outgrowth of negative space expanded by the flury of pulling strings,
lines look best at 5:30pm in the middle of summer.

On days like today I feel like eyes on someone else's head,
I am the store clerk and the passerby watching myself cross the street like a stranger.

How do you say I want to capture the sky the way it was on July 12, 1997 when they strung up lanterns at 11:50 pm.
I want to trap every comer in the library, grocery store and parking lot and hang them on a single wall.

There is a small envelope of time between sunset and dusk when the skeletons of half finished buildings, shopping carts, iron casts on an empty church
Pipes shooting from a white factory
take a little mid-action pause
and we can dance with silhouettes.