[Poem] Swell

Two-Hundred and Fifty-Four
A number used
often forgotten
How long does it take to stem
the stream asks
the Clocksmith
Burst-apart story of the
being you depend
on your wrist,
on your knees.

Girl, I wish I knew you.
Boy, I wish I knew you.

Your pixelated
Face
fractures our dreams.
Road wanderers
Explorers of orange light
feeding on cheap food
and diluted caffeine after
cheap booze and
diluted conversation.

Cold winter birds,
too loud to hear you overhead
perhaps this dictates day.
perhaps this means going home.
Clocksmith,
dictator at flesh-level.
The nightly nomads
Cold winter birds
Fourth-hour-bends
A kneed arousal.

Visceral sound; wind
Swollen needs
Narrowed eyebrows, no smile.
Breath so hot I can taste it.

Rising chest
Swell
Pulse
Feel

Two-Hundred and Fifty-Four times a minute.

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[Poem] Swell