do we have some attention

if i could see the future
i know
i would make the mistake
of not listening

again

my threadbare focus,
a crime against day and night
regarding sentences, still raw
mostly incomplete ideas
are always incomplete
(aren’t they?)

curiosity is sometimes
the sickness
short bursts and sharp pixels
truths twisted in bright crinkly paper
on this we agree but
i’ve blinked away before we can agree—

and you are only footprints now
anyway, a memory of conversation
we never had

both of us
having lost patience
with the long, endless burden of
“hello”