Artist in the Garage With an Ocean View

 
When I stare off into space I notice that it never stares back and this is upsetting because there should be some basic interaction even a snake will rear back its head and rhinoceros beetles will make evasive moves on the forest floor like the woman who thought my name was “Spike” but you never know how these interactions will go and whether the thick Hawaiian air will wash back like a tsunami and suck you out to sky and if you make believe you are swimming you will float to the top as long as your eyes are even with the top deck of the cruise ship and your feet are pointed in the right direction and this I was taught by the old goat-man in the outback with the teas and mushroom elixirs who like me threw his eyes into the clouds waiting for them to return in rushing waves slamming all of his ideas to loamy earth rich for the taking but there he was a constantly blind person so when a tree bends or a cloud arcs over a mountain top or a salmon dies in the mouth of a bird or a child looks away I think this might be me because everything is me and that is what makes this lack of discourse personal because there should be consequences for what I do.