Pot Hole

4/18/24

It rained on my walk today
When I had thought:
Billie Ellish will die someday
and time will fold around the world.
I heard it from the pot holes.

Came home, took a fap.
Told God I loved him back.
Then in bed,
a tapping on the sill,
telling my head:
Billie Ellish will die someday
and time will fold around the world.
I heard it from the pot holes.

It’s not a glass cup —
a mother’s breast.
It’s not half full
until it rests.

It’s a candle.
It’s a balloon.
It’s a bull.
It’s a noon.
It’s a fowl.
It’s a stroll.
It’s a tear
in a pot hole,
aging away,
and one day
Billie Ellish will die
and the world will fold,

and all will stand
and all is still.