I like nothing so much
As that for which I’m not looking.
The lurking, the stealth, the quiet and the rush,
The thing that says, look away please.
You saw nothing.
Of course I saw nothing – I remembered everything.
We’ll pretend this dance,
We’ll relish this fiction:
I knew what we were doing the whole time.
And when the scenery folds,
And the truth it holds –
We’ll just go not-looking for tomorrow’s line.