Blues in Blue by Stephen Cramer

Some days they shadow
me like a badly dubbed

film, lines lagging
just behind the lips.

Don’t talk to me
about serenity. One guy

ate an airplane
piece by piece over

two years, but he still
couldn’t fly.

Maybe the things
I’ve believed in most

all this time have been
fossilizing my brain cells.

How much there is
in the world to re-discover:

how the stream pushes
the swamp an inch further

south each season, how
to throw a pebble

at an asteroid. I try again
to understand

your half smile.
Its curvature

is a foreign
tongue I want

to spend the rest
of the night learning.