III (or 9.87 m/s2)

you in the middle my arms

are springs uncoiling for such cushioning.

from the fourth floor up the drop

ain’t no fatal Friday but kiss your ankles goodbye.

eye contact is pulling teeth but more obviously visual.

this is a whole letter late.

a very late letter subpoenaed by a paler later rabbit.

if it were up to me, those cinder blocks

are what goes through the looking glass.

just to get the air less still.

its an exegesis of our community, no one

reads these things anyway unless they think

their names will be hidden in ever so.

like unboarding all of Baltimore’s fucked panes on the off chance

someone left the pilot light hot.

you in the middle of the hiss.

me still four floors up, my smoke only rises.

the only thing i remember from physics is how

we can only fall so fast.

oh yeah well who says

point ‘em out

a train leaves Philadelphia at

noon heading south & another departs from boston

half past eleven heading west

at what time do the passengers realize

they won’t ever see those tracks or those almost blurs again?

until he realizes she is on the very wrong train?

how big will the bruise be-

the self-inflicted shin kick- give measurements

in inches, round up to the nearest satellite & jump

it won’t hurt it can’t

the clouds have been such sufficient padding