matt pond PA

February 21, 2018

Temporary Spring.

This conversation may only be in my mind, so you don’t have to nod if you’re there. Still, I wouldn’t stop you or laugh at you for addressing the corresponding surface. Spontaneous, unselfconscious in your bathtub style. We all have our private coral colonies, our snores, our nonstarters. And if you were who you are when you’re alone, I would let go of my life in our split-second collision. I don’t care if you treat me like an object. We are involute gears on the same unwinding string, the functionality of our human bodies straining to translate an avalanche into truth. We don’t know one another, yet we still wait. A vague religion of innocence and hope. Sidewalk foreigners with identically mirrored movements, jumping over temporary ponds in temporary spring, the ice floes under our legs. Suddenly the same and still ourselves. The humble honor of celebrating an abstract series of planetary conditions in temporary spring.