Speech’s surf
is wavy,

water’s rift

moodshopping
a Babel

more oblong
than unintelligible.

The rain
before

the sun

and the darkness
before

the moon.

Looking
for any,

only finding
some,

this train is
made of colorless swathes and swatches,

deaf each passenger’s
stammerings and—

great gout of self and loneliness—

alive, alive.