Life Lines

---

10:32—How are you? 

I want to tell him I’m watching

a murder—the boy in the carpark blowing out the brains

of a dandelion clock,

my hand a foam finger in the window.

Stop

But it takes too long to say

when you’re living in half-speed,

its synapses split-

ting, nerve cells ripping silvery streams 

of memories like steam 

that pour from the stalk.

I see them on the ground—

thoughts disintegrated, 

having waited too long to leave.

Perhaps that child could type it out,

find the right emoji for: In concrete 

how does one begin to grow new plants?

Instead, I say:

10:38—I had my five a day.