NO LONELINESS

there is a ledge where you
continuously flow over

even when you are pinched
in a silver mask

even when you hold your bag of guts
with stoicism, reptilian poise

you are continuously flowing over
the edge of this frozen verge
of nothingness feeding on a flock of chickens
feeding on a field of corn
aisles painted white with shit
there is a shovel you hold

when you want to kiss a religious woman
on the softest part of her mouth
the hardest edge of her
continuously overflowing
a multitude of dainty hands
(the wide white air at all backs)
on bloody balconies over and over