Think of a number, any number.
Count the rain drops if you’re unsure.
Imagine how many jelly beans fit inside
a sixty-four ounce jar.
This will distract your mind.
Make falling down something abrupt,
surrender nothing to the Jezebel’s you meet
along the roads of life, remember their dark-haired
secrets fondly, their icicle blue eyes lined
in black, their snow white skin as apparitions.
This will distract your heart.
Release everything, hold nothing in
out of spite or longing. Dreams are like
gripping a fistful of fog. Keep your hands
in your pockets. Every now and then,
throw something into the pot.
This will enable your spirit.
If you can, get dying down. Consider it
a mathematical equation. Spell check
your breathing, plot out how the body
uncoils, recognize the bone’s hesitation,
the nervous system’s admissions.
This will save your life.