Midway

I’m looking at the water, suspended, unable to move.

There’s smog on either side of the bridge, pollution shimmering. On one side are the Centers for Peace Studies, their Research Programs. On the other side are the grocery stores. I do want groceries.

I want to stop the war, but I’ve been consumed with so many things. All of the small actions that go into this. All of the preparing food and eating it. All of the dressing and undressing. Not just showering, but singing in the shower. Laundry.

Small actions in direct opposition to the thoughts of the Research Centers. This cooking and then eating dinner in front of the TV. Not watching satire, watching a singing competition.

I want to walk deeply into the darkness, nude as a god, through the self into the darkness.

I want to blow up the Law with Language, having run my tongue around my mouth ten thousand times. Instead of not speaking, I want to speak.