Tender is the Tendency Collage

Requires framing to be properly displayed. Your breath has some weight behind it. A life force that blows my eyelashes back toward my ears. "I hope you're not infecting me with some free radical contagion" I think. It's in a dream but I still realize I'm thinking it instead of saying it out loud. A bee hovers over my phone as I text then lights between my fingers. It feels like I'm cradling a fuzzy cigarette there in the crotch of my knuckles. A digital sensation this. I dare not move or shoo her away. This is more her garden than mine certainly more her sky than mine I think (my lips still aren't moving) as she takes to the air abandoning me to my black mirror. Debris has gathered there where there was free space. The cache is full like when news was all printed, layering earthquakes on panda births on coronations on Donner on Blitzen on train derailments on celebrity weddings and infidelities on styles of shoes and changing haircuts on foreign wars and domestic economies on the rake's progress and morality's decline on and on and all on paper. Time physically accumulating while still being as ephemeral as your breath in my eyelashes.