Stroller, boaster,
where you look
is when we fall:
observer defection
makes subjects 
the object of no-more-perfection;

see it ain't slow,
one step makes time
and two rhythm
and a blurry gray walk
sits beside the street;

pause, continue;

calculus season
demands acceleration
and an area
that lives under 
the curve between us;

measure, that's where
treasure comes from,
as there must be a pile
and a drawable down
that can up and up and

written is a seated
while read can go 
or stay;

and while and by the
way, continuity is
an error
that is waiting for its
balanced sheet
to sleep beneath the sign:
eight sides,
and a graffiti ego
that takes the wall by stroll.

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