in another sense, when we don’t feel so ill, when we’re better

as an afterthought, in the litter behind the giant yucca hedge

in between one concept and the next, framing all colorization

in the flats, telling ourselves stuff we decided to believe

in one untold story, whoever it was who said they’d get back to you

they did get back to you… in the shade of the ficus against the wall

in another version, you didn’t resent the person you always acted like

in dreams where you were always busy, hurrying to get things done

in a lapse, when the sound system cuts out, pausing for a moment

in a variant, where supposedly he not only followed through, he

actually did something no one else was able to do, without fear

or expectation, even that anyone would ever might know,

in that spot, somewhat implausibly, just did what he could do