Similar to the first cold day of the year, when you grab a coat you haven't worn in a while and put your hands in the pockets, and find a piece of receipt, a used tissue, caramel wrapper, and a band-aid, also used. And not being able to recognize who these fragments belong to.

It is disorienting when one loses their sense of continuity. It is gutting when one cannot reason with their actions.

When reality slipped, such fragments became tangible comforts. Material had memory, in how a tissue soaked, in how an envelope scuffed. It rendered progression.

To go through the motions, to attend to the fragments, to impact, to secure and suspend. To have no qualms about merely performing care. To perform on the outside so perhaps the inside will follow.

still grassy field – accelerates
bicycle intrude 35 miles per hour
                            56 kilometers per hour

glass cups atop of fridge
landscape, crease
newsprint

burst dulled sense, lukewarm ensue

knife with the blue handle
shudder

bush-like florets bundled
quietly dried while they await
deployed into forest

paper tape with serrated end
cardboard bend, economical

first-aid’s deceivingly mere steps
clean – cover – secure

this bread was a loaf but now’s a brick
I assumed fatigue