that is not a bird      that is a large dark area      it is the same thing      as your head      when I do your head in silhouette      there could be a nation      that outlawed the profile      or only thought of outlines      from the front      it is the same as your imaginary life      you have just given your concession speech      bravely to a small crowd of supporters     they could be thinking anything and aren’t      you can’t tell a large dark area to give up      everything is possible      and not happening     to me in this plausible room      despite the five thousand ways you might reach me      the phone is not ringing      it could be      it is not      I elect to see but one thing at a time      one broken toe      one gone-bad sausage      I could possess a freakish lack of power      like I could be a puncture      but instead I am a vice      it all goes on without      or else beside me      like in this version of the world      there is no gold