there's a reason, and it's infinity

i like to think
that the reason i start so many poems
with the word "and"

is because i'm continuing, 
continuing from the endless lines of poetry 
that i weave around my thoughts
and into the black keys that lie underneath my fingers - 

i'm not beginning a poem,
i'm just adding a chapter, 
finally recording the forever-loop of words
like popcorn strung along on twine
it's always going, 

lost poems i will never recover
constructed in the cling of cigarette smoke on subway passengers' clothes
and wet, dreary sidewalks all in the same bland brown-gray-concrete color
sometimes in the dark of night, under the cover of streetlight gaps, 
and a couple times when the only thing i could hear
was the ringing rhythm of my feet hitting the floor

but sometimes i get them down, 
words in scrawled graphite or misspelled text

and so here we go again, 
and and and and and, 
continuing on the never-ending saga
of my little trainwreck thoughts. 

The End

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