Nicotine Suite (No.3)

singular of sand in the bed
did days before coffee. there's
a dead weight on me too
a moth, whose motivation
eludes. the spine of
Steve Benson's Blue Book, buried
under theory, mostly film
and that bill I didn't pay yet.
paint under a nail. all those
books reading themselves
for which I am mute. the
birds are yelling not what
is drifting -  the big about out there
middling chance of rain - but
merely of regional theories.
  that's my spot, you're in 
  my spot. 

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