Sitting in Chaos

They sit, we sit, not knowing the depths
of care or of writing, mesmerized by cool muzak -
darkening the space between crossed legs,
dangling Converse, the converse of discussion -
where we are not involved in the diabolical.

But magazines enter the diatribe sometimes -
and sometimes where we all are notifying
each other, all microbes of discovery, well
the best we can make of the setting sun -
an attempt at screening, shading, sun glasses.

Ignore pleas at coolness, at what we all can
agree to, upcoming stars falling hear by the
ready will - driving through space, nearly the
next paragraph of thought, but to transgress
all together is not very noble, or elderly.

A coffee table intercedes for squirts of chocolate -
making ready the stars, the bucks that will
add up numerals, flavors of alternative space -
a cadet that is too new for flavor, for flawed
trials, standing erect, facing the sun.

© 2015 Larry Ingram