I once lived in the polar outback.
My finds were gold, and fulfilled
I was the king of laxness, the brain behind living squids & porcupines.
All at once, a slingshot held me breathless.
The tide was time with salt in the ice.
You can’t pass through a time machine with your clothes on.
It’s necessary to write everything down on little yellow “stickies....”
Then maybe being and breathing will stick
to you, and you won’t fade.