Pouring itself down and plunging.

Free falling,

the hair from an embarrassing

Nipple

Or chin

Grazes a sticky spot of something

Cradled with indifference and cast on at a particularly gray second

Padded with impunity and shade of a thousand

Crates of oranges

Blossoming.

Flowers can’t know their own genus,

Species.

Now it’s taco night

“Have you ever seen mayonnaise in a bucket?”

Clapping like a dumb seal, gawking and wading.

“…like an entire gallon of mayonnaise for sale somewhere…”

Caked with resin,

Stacked in spines of quirky looking

Trinkets and

Spindly other somethings

Still wading

Still dancing

I sweep.