Circiter

Eyes track the circle 
and it turns out, upon
closeness, to have been
oval. There's a sort of
doppler effect that is
not a matter of speeding
light, rather a flight of
sense from bright to
plights, carried like
water droplets on 
the wind, carefully
and impossibly viscous,
a meniscus in a moment
under conditions of bucket. 

The only way to sustain the
sphere is to be present and 
slice away the past and its 
future, letting ownership
and fences and debt and 
money and utility and 
electricity and asphalt
and speed and fire and
sociality wash away as
the rain drops and
remains drops.