The World's Cursor
I am followed by trails of light:
Every motion cuts lines in the air.
Even a cursory glance discovers
the divine waitress pouring
slack-jawed while our cup
runs over with trouble.
I am a cursive script. Every
maddening letter of my life
must join with the next: and though
I solemnly swear or affirm
that I will not tell the whole truth,
after years of coursing
they still have not found
a cure for candor.