wyoming
in this episode i play a springboard diver in a slick production selling flight. despite many vertical rips—no splash, sleek mane when surfacing—they want another take. works for me. i get wet pay. each plunge bumps my bottom line. but this is all for you—so far from that resort feel that hectors ranch chores with the chance to experience amagansett light. vineyard styling. passing variants on some island ready with cabanas. with branded gifts that animate a complex bustle. where labor is remote and the rank pecking order perfumed so it smells great to transgress limits. to shift place. to dally in ubiquitous plumage. we trade force fields. tricky patinas. directions that hurry you away from itemizing your horse. to grasp levels of promise by touching on what’s just out of reach. here in the deep end—on top of over your head—i spread synecdoche so well that eventually no one knows what’s said. do these briefs become your phatic reply to a versicle? or is my worn body being used to phone in a ductile range reflecting skin? not all mirrors are equal at unpacking plenum. the setup moves. lights rehung. i practice floating. take in the secret domain i’ve been read into. spirit. sugar. bitters. water. liquidity frames my gaze. even if you don’t look, things still unfold to blend with what’s relative to my spot. when fleeting displaces sense. i hear cellophane—craft services unwrapping treats. then later, bends from a theremin.