The wet moon carried

its long rope to the corner store

& listed us back off one to the one

to the one.

What to list while I wait for the hidden track?

That it was each ruse in turn?

Just a constraint with nothing at stake

but a little dactylic music?

Motherfucker, don’t tell me.

It’s committee thought

on the scale of the committee.

Just break the stranger’s path to

a drop-pit covered in branch.