The last time I saw you
Oxblood brogues perched on a beach cruiser,
I admit to being unsettled.
20,000 holes on the average human face
But yours were gravitational –
I suppose stillness after a flood is a longstanding trademark.

and now, having awakened me,
you must expect me to do something. but
the problem is I don’t know which part of the story I’m in –
is this the valley of the Baptist,
Or, have we already arrived at the place of the skull.