Black shoes, black pants
Grey shirt
A Human inhabits
The fabrics
Working
Standing, walking
Sitting
shifting
When is it time
To go home?
Dimly lit house
Back from the road
Hidden by trees
Won't you come and visit?
Pour color on my clothes
Draw lines on a blank face
Eating and sleeping
And working
Have lost their charm.
I'm disarmed so easily as you
Twirl your fingers through your hair
While we play through songs
On the old-time stereo
You look at me
And the flute solo is almost on cue
What algorithm is this?
That knows our whole lives
Better than we know ourselves
Spread bare by
constellations of data points
That light up my soul against
The backdrop of my life
My mouth now dances
To the rhythm of spells
Gushing all over your rarity
Compelled by your minimalism
Letting go of every half-baked thought
Every summed and numbed sentiment
Multiplied by every rumination
Concluding
In an aftermath of
Disappearing mystery
The moment has passed
My stomach reminds me
Of another supper
Another dreamless sleep
Back to work
In the same black shoes
Black pants, grey shirt
And with these newfound lines
Animating my face
