Crush 200 million shells into a champagne flute.Twist 200 million lemon rinds, using only Frenchcarbon steel, rocking back & forth. Imagineeven bubbles bust a cap in the ceiling. Imaginemy brain stuck spinning like a pair of rimsat a traffic light. Effervescence mixed with cognac,spinning serotonin. Of course you can lower meto the floor with two hands gripping my waist. SayClicquot 10 times quick. Gaba receptors swingingfrom the ledges of a mind, all shot down.Home is circling through a sky of old habits.Saying—I’m on my way when I haven’t even left.All day long, I’m on a late-night walk, letting my legstake me whichever way they want, witnessing the oneswho came before me resting on the wings of things.On Jets, on JET, on the word Yahtzee, on moths,moth balls, on lightning bugs, on strawberrycandies, front porches, plastic fold-out chairs, onbiscuits, my daddy’s bald head, broken bottles.I’m afraid to end up at the edge of an empty glass.Afraid of what lingers in a taste bud, in a neuron,in my nerve cells.