Recording the sadness
Sadness is stuck in my mind like seaweed in a motorboat motor.
My focus dwells on the plastic debris overload.
My eyes move from person to person, considering their tops and bottoms. Hairstyles and shoes. Bags and accessories.
And I feel despair at the too muchness. Meaning falls out like a tooth.
No control. Act of nature.
And I get busy trying to make.
Build it up in a ramshackle way. Brick here, board there, blue gun here, nail there.