Movie scene: blurry-edged visage, green
Kieślowski lights, air conditioning’s soft
murmurs, six empty seats on the still

unoccupied sand. A pair of irises, subtle
as the fall of a cashmere camisole. Trick or
more tricks, color blindness as a concept –

the shortening asteroid belts, this
recurring line of code, one
more word used too figuratively;

it triggered you. No, you ≠ “you,”
someone clasped their hands &
buried the flickering candle in

an occluded night undeserving
of moonshine. We kept waiting for
a sacred epiphany, sharp turns on highways:

rotting countenance, molding features,
unmeasurable beta decay. Morning
nothings, caffeinated cologne –

for the duration of this stare, I am
staring at you, staring back, with all
my unknown unknowns, all I can stare with,

which, really, isn’t much.