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The wish that offers me up now
Comes from how the going-away things
Return and feel like something else
Familiar mistakes ask this place
Which is only a coincidence the market
Harvested pretty slowly if you ask
The ones who grew up in it but you don't
And they don't and so no feeling of flood
Is impervious to how light goes on

I'm following these thoughts
But not having them
The sex that leaks into my blood
Has several slides in memory
None of which is more real
Or too much reality
I don't hate it but all the same
To have children to be a father
And to float gently above the earth
All seem somehow incompatible
With this hourly fox-giggle