I am not knowing.

Run, don't walk
from that which would plant you in
the easy flow of the moon's attraction.

Whoever did the dishes last
left some shards of glass
that I feel now in the back of my throat.
It's too late. Save yourselves.
It's too late to save yourselves.

Just out of spite;
Just 'cause you can't;
I'll bite--
as long as the red geyser doesn't hit the bookshelf.

It'll all be like when time froze at that traffic light in Memphis.