to throw plates at the ceiling
and leave the smash
where it lay. There’s
art on the floor, I told my
guests, who knew to watch out instead.
They could see me listening else
where, music enough
to blind me.
So the moments came unseen, un-
folding with strange freedom. Strange
friction, like the time
I dipped to lick
the pavement
crowded at midday.
I can’t know
who noticed, I was all
ears, and the click
of the key in the
planned—
was all my own.
Now I only glance back
at this past I did not plan.
Why look long
at what I never saw coming?
Across Beyond 