I Know Milk, But…

I know these sharp corners

and those serrated edges

and the logic of black ink on white page

and the spin of whitewalled rubber down potholed streets

and the piercing of the skies by our scrapers

and the scatching of the heavens by plane,

like fingernails on the inside of a coffin

and classrooms and boardrooms and meetings

and information and facts

and beltbuckles

or the foreboding ordered tanglements of a noose

and the Indy 500 and the Indy 500 and the Indy 500

and taxes and accounts and fractions and numbers themselves.

I know definitions and meanings and synonyms and opposites

and the price of a gallon of milk

the price of a gallon of milk.

I know the price of this gallon of milk,

but I will never know the shape of wind,

the path of the moth,

or this thing, alone in our world



A masterpiece aflutter-

but with the strength to travel 2500 miles (a fact).

I will never know the butterfly,

which is why my heart beats

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