My earphones are tangled in a way that reminds me linguini,
touching and twisted like vines creeping up a tree makes me think of
human knots and warm interlaced appendages,
smooth and soft like dogs you encounter on sidewalks on streets that
wind and intersect with gravel-patched and asphalt beaches,
rough and trodden like the trails in the woods which I see as
weird paths leading everywhere and nowhere and the same place,
oddly familiar because of it we all walked outward.