Fractals

by Ryan Carson

the dreams recede occasionally
and they settle into the damp sand
of my subconscious, rocked into candor.

when insomnia cracks the windshield
of my vision, I remember
what alex had to say about fractals
and that it’s reassuring,
that you don’t always notice them

but seriously, they’re always there
which is my favorite thing about celebrities
I can just think about what they are doing
at any given time
unlike friends who must be clutched
and located, texted, are you ok?
yeah, it does feel like the sky is always
falling, but it’s only raining
all the fucking time

but celebrities, I wonder what they’re doing man
they aren’t suffering, well not in the way that to clean a house is suffering

instead I like to think that moby
is driving up a hilly carpet of evergreens
courtney cox in an apple orchard with lenses
reflecting granny smith and golden, delicious

and me, clear lenses of fractal in admittedly
sick deck shoes on an admittedly shitty and sinking yacht
Sequestered, and sloppy in my best stripes I drink for sustenance.