My brain is spongy graymatter, it's thick and it's saturated, but it's leaking slowly, deflating just like everything else here. I watch the news; I soak it up. I've seen the bombs and the cocaine, waterlogged with infinity, both very dense, both very leaking. I've sensed the damage implied. Their weight is settling down on me, my brain absorbs them through and through. Here, now, Gallo whitewine unfolding smells like clear tingling shivers while its glassy green bottle holds my hand firmly, anchoring me to the flat of the floor - it will never let go, I'll be anchored forever, the world leaking small and in spurts all around, waiting for us to deflate or blow out. |