Out of place Restless. A short Breath catches me quietly. It gets to nowhere Before I know it. The place of just about not Or just too much. The average does not exist. What I give for granted does not exist. It disappeared a long time ago. Before me Before itself. It died in the moment of conception. It ceased pretending In that short breath. I almost killed it as soon as I noticed it. Will it kill me back? I did not want to possess that air I did not want to reject that air. Yet I breathe. By the urgency of not belonging, Not owing Not being owned Running from a contract I considered a given I talked to that breath. It gave me a shiver in response. I.B.