I tell you I will not make any more raids,
The elusive going-elsewhere motherboard 

An electrical sound marking stretches 
Afternoon is carving into the wood of us,

That’s our modern way of saline allegory—
To make gods of times of day. I won't 

Cooperate with this love that steals itself 
Into a brand name, preferring to abandon 

Like feathers or a rocket stage the moves 
Traffic up till now couldn’t touch. That’s me,

That warm breath dying on the neck,
The only chain they couldn’t save in the fire 

Everybody but the Buddha called  
A day at the beach.