it’s a dirt road, see,
i’m standing in the middle of,
and if the dirt were water,
it would boil down to this:

i have 11 in one hand, I say,
and only one in the other,
so either i can keep 11
and get rid of one,
or else keep the one
and get rid of the 11.
but I don’t need any of them,
i say, so I put my two hands together
to make sure I have them all
but I don’t need them all.

so i lay them on the ground
and walk 12 paces from the pile
in a easterly direction,
then walk a perfect circle
around the pile
in a counterclockwise direction
until i reach the start of the circle,
then i walk to the middle.

i pick one from the pile,
and say, “I’ll take this one,”
then i put it back down
and pick another up and say,
“i want this one.”
then I put it down.

then i pick it up

then i put it down

then i pick it up

then i pick it up

then i put it down

then i put it down

and I say this will be a poem
and i say I’m just thinking out loud
and i say what am I going to do
and I say I’m doing it

 

©A. D. Joyce, 2014