Wane into It

Once a week
I wake up
And remind myself that I
Am going to die

Death thought, it keeps me kind:
When I wane into it
I don’t mind
Blue cruelty washed with sake
At night

You might trace paint chips
In the atmosphere
Assigning (sine waves to flake) data from on high
Hide sound
In a grate at Times Square
Make sound characters
Die
Then people care

I care, you drank like me
Wild hair bobbing

Maryanne
You heard things
Dancing
With past selves
Asking—
Absurd, meaningful, and clear:

“There is no time.”
Can I wane into it?
“There is no time.”
I’ll just wane into it
“There is no time.”
Let’s all wane into it