Sometimes I feel like Mr. Linea, always surprised
by the abrupt end of the line and yet chasing birds
away from the twittering machine mercilessly
hanging in my bedroom full of silhouettes.
And while each fight may seem a bit superficial,
all the previous ones were won with relative ease.
In fact, all I had to do was check every morning
if I still knew how to breathe in and out, casually
count the heartbeats left until the last one,
and indulge in a few other guilty pleasures.
hidden pilcrow 