Don’t ask me where I’ve been.
A funhouse or a prison.
The walls are within
other walls transparent.
Then I’m outside
so wide I can’t feel.
Between objects so thick
I can only see hard blocks.
I squeeze between them
and come out ribbon-thin and reeling.
Where have I been?
As soon as asked I wander
Into a whorl of words.
This into that melting.
Transparency in such things
they fade upon touch.
Passing through what.
A head or a butt
that dissolves into a hole
mended and smoothed to …
I cannot tell from here.
Let’s have another beer!