jet setting

wandering the junked out corners of my brain

i came across some numbers that didn’t add up

some letters that belonged to no language at all

 (in reality, they were maybe even fictional)

i once knew a secret language

it was understood by myself and only one other astronaut 

it was born from the bottom of the river here and grew up in a circus

or was it a carnival? i can’t remember

at the shore
there are waves of euphoria and humor. the sand is soft and warm. even the broken concrete looks content. all along the edge, people are standing looking. at the ocean, at the sky, at eachother smiling. but
with collective wonder, feeling inside a perverse craving for something else, someone, a complete everything, or just one unattainable anything.