Apropos of nothing

Apropos of nothing
cousin to the dogfish
waiting; wanting; THIS

is a crayfish; this [a sun
set] looks like tomorrow;
people believe in dragons

around the world. What
we wanted, of course--
what we wanted.

I grow like bitter salt in wounds--the pain thus mounted is what I'm saying, adjusting, always adjusting to the something that we run up against, like soles to the pavement, huh? How do you want me to kill you? This is a question that instead of answering I want to burn, along with everything, with the rain and trees and plants and birds and prisons melting like a gold sunset until, unicorns, with wings for once, settle down on this satellite plane, dusty and stray--and the desert turns into an ocean with a meteorite thus landing, exploding, calcium carbonate turned into bitter herb dust in the wind, toxic, toxic, fires worldwide, and the dinosaurs die, and the lizards shrink, and the Jurassic ends, and what have we been give. That isn't a question but a reason as to why I have laid four forks on the table and a dull knife and a gun and a cutlass.