No Captain

Anthem for wasted stretches

with horns and lost bass by the orange

building across the street which may

be viewed through a living room window.



I dance and sleep alone, twisting my feet as though

something could be done about it

shifting restless and unsavory against nothing and the other

in emergency exit rows with ample leg and elbow room


I am No Captain

and you my Singular Beauty of the East are No Navigator

All I want is an exchange, the trading of places

No Captain and No Navigator, neé Singular Beauty of the East

returning to the state of being a singular
a we in the face of this us.



All collisions are accidents with no navigator at hand

All hands are accidents, all hands are collisions.