Pigeons of Fontainebleau

I enjoy watching pigeons flirt more than going to the gym to make new friends.

Or taking acting classes.

Or wait, what did she say? Singing lessons?

But I’ll just shut up and not be rude.

A sense of possession seems to be innate,

For our thoughts, emotions, connections.

The moon, the stars, the sky, our new shoes.

Tether. I don’t know how to use that word.

I have loved to be silent when someone tells me something they would only tell themselves.

Not fully in equanimity, would you still get along?

I sometimes, now more often, return to a centerless position

out of the dream-like state

where I pretend to be choosing,

and I still exist without too much importance.

Outwards.