And I walk right through, down the cobbled path. The smell of dog – I never
Allowed myself to mention it.
Retracting into the present, to think of being ultimately present as a retraction
From a dream.
I'm salivating from car sickness. Wet fur clinging to my tired outline. The present
Is a long winding car ride you must take to get to the good walking path.
Among tall ferns, I shape shift back into a person with
Two legs and determination. Salty air pricks
The small cuts in my skin. They’re shaped like the o of someone else's mouth.
Taken to a big raging ocean by the rushing of wind in my ears, my eyes fog up
Thinking back to –, 2026
Coat, from memory, artist’s perfume, MDF