Describe vapor again

by Glynnis Eldridge
i am surprised to be             on the train to the protest
packed in                                    discussions of how long
you can survive                        (you can simply exist) without food
without water                           without sleep
but if you find yourself          in a cave
sleeping                                       just stay there
we will not                                  let them sleep
if they do not                            let us dream
the night before                       on a basement couch
in virginia                                     i wake up
mid-sleep                                     thinking of all the moments
(is this the moment)                it would happen
(it would happen)                      now. leveled, 
(right?) is a basement            a good place to be
for that? close to                     dirt, warmth, worms?
a technically soft                      smush between
cushion, sandwich                    artificial and otherwise.
right? rubble can                      provide air pockets,
right? a cloud                             lights over new york 
and a spotlight                          from the white house
-- a camera?                               my throat is swelling to cork.
if i choke on this coughdrop
now in the library after
hours of exhaling hard
into tissues every minute
i don’t think they would
consider heimlich.
cancel sinus sounds through rubber
stoppers. to consider de-clogging
the packed room i would have to go
dramatic to be noticed
gasping more than what
prompted self-clogging
ears. remember day one of
new chairs: deep voiced
tall baby boys exchange 
deep notes on women.
mercury is gone by fifty
for sure! all faces sag
when you watch them like
that carefully or the opposite
detail your enjoyment of her
face from afar to your neighbor.
sobeautiful,          mondieu!)
baby blather
of teachers too: who’s hot?
& a defeated: one guy used to talk to us
about his daughters (oh sick bro!)
who were also professors (wow!)
but he was like seventy so his daughters were probably like fifty
(oh, ew) (laughs) (but what a buzzkill, man)
I know right? Once I had a hot teacher
but she talked 
too much. i am 
a sick storm tonight,
a magnet to your laptop
screen and monitor
our output
in put out
putin eggshells by the hour. 
describe my salt air again.
i anticipate you applauding 
my departure from the room
for the siphon out of unnatural
rare trumpets, a crowd, a cold
quiet following results of a weekend
i'm sorry, i normally stay quiet
despite double sniffle. words 
escape me except digitally.
compare me to kids. i sag
around and beneath perimeter,
feel bad for science. block
science on twitter. deny 
weather and numbers to
complicate the whole
truth, i must say, i never
liked math classes much
and truth the word felt
fuzzy on the tongue 
while illiterate 
and young but what 
now apocalypse 
do you promise and why?
i can’t see the world these days.
it is too red. i mean, i can 
see the world these days, it is 
blistering, it is
your penned paranoia passed.
i cannot recall how to exist.