Taffy Days

It's morning now all night.
Aluminum skin pulls rays through
the park in the dirt, on trees, in my hair.
Not a bad day to jump up and down.
When people see how living spare is necessary
they get smaller, disappear. Sweet
morning, cold bones. Photos of people
doing things in places I've never
been. Does that mean the situations
are fake or have been staged somehow?
So the morning light and all this thinking
does is add delicious details to my story.
I grab the globe and think people have
thought of me from the following locations
while I've been here. Radiating sprays
across oceans, lines splayed out like
a hand. I enjoy getting lost in the tidal
flows of time without you, these taffy days.