Connective Cube

Loud voice, closed lips
If my chords work right now
they would say
‘absolutely incorrect’.

Someone might believe I have
Hardly a conscious thought;
She’s not fond to ponder without a point,
Is she even understanding what I’m saying?

My nail nubs have a hard time opening the new face cream.
I puncture the think layer of iridescent plastic with a knife,
Eager to spread the blob on my face cake and
Relieve my dry fingers..

Ruminating another false perception
Not really
Wanting to talk about it
While I knead my forehead and my cheekbones.

It feels like a romance, one with a book cover
Of grinning faces around a long table.
They know each other from a spectacular sociality.
Or having many many cousins or kids.

It’s not regrets and I’m thankful to take naps
To listen to the birds and wonder why
Throat to chord, jaw to beak
What moves a mouth to open.