These Cells Are Passages

a life, a page--cotton fibers woven into shapes, we wear the brand, walking billboard, walking life, two-dimensional.

is there something behind the crosshairs--the blurry victim in front? the mental trial, devil on each shoulder?

this is right and wrong, a different brand--singeing hairs, bubbling flesh.

a life, a page, a short story, a blurb in the paper--the shape of a man, three children, divorced, he wears the brand, walking life.

elsewhere, a brain splattered on the convertible, she scoops chunks as best she can, not knowing any better.

the blurry victim, a meditation on hits, runs, circumstantial evidence, a devil on each shoulder. we dream.