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.