Future Night

Future Pulse

Holding a finger to the thick vain in my neck
it pushes itself out and around my tip
but    "I already have a hold on you."
"Calm down" I whisper from my trampoline
and I come off slow
we un-stick like ribbons
only to come together
more.
Holding
(fanning out) hand like the head of an unconscious bird
"Oh, melancholy"
 touching deep breath when,some night,
just like this-
-muggy rain and sweaty legs-
I won't have to feel my own, boring pulse.