unconnected dots may soon lie dormant

is meaning's ambulance enough?

enough to squash and splatter

the now disparate back together again?

my mind is the intricate lattice of

intersecting tree branches:

each rising from its trunk, its mother

each lying to me: for they never, ever touch

- but my thoughts do -

they:

fornicate like romans and

teach like the greeks, but
their halcyon dreams will die in utero,
for they are:

American:

They know not how to choose:

(which is to say: what)

They do not do.

(which is to say: dead)