dual player game
the through line doesn't
exist except in the lies
you tell yourself to think
your life makes sense
& every inconvenience
drives the point home
even more, the late mail,
the loose change, the
kids running home from
school, the guy on the
corner screaming about
the rats in his brain, how
do they fit the narrative
just glancing through
on a wisp of memory
that doesn't amount
to much on the cusp
of your tongue if you
think about it which
you don't since nothing
else matters but salt
& licorice & the oatmeal
cookies you tasted once
in Chicago or the bacon
& eggs you had this morning
before it all went to shit