Riding the edge of a coin

Tumbled emotions clang hard off reality, leaving behind

Bumbled commotions, slang card, too real to me, heaving me

Can’t get a thought straight, weak signals rule our fate and

Then everything slides into place, the eyes on mine see the

Sliding through mechanisms, a series of complex schisms, dropping

Dumped, counted, and sorted, every single move reported, with

Statistics on a list somewhere, bought and sold, swapped for

Darkness runs away, a glow comes over the place, the eyes on

Tim Windisch

07/31/2023