I’m on the couch this counts twelve minutes
twelve minutes says the box twelve minutes
the oven hums like it wants credit
the wing is hot the wing is pink
the wing is thinking about thinking
I’m holding the bags I’m holding the bags
I’m holding the bags
good lighting expensive pears a voice saying sir
a dog is too much inside itself
this is not relevant this is not relevant
If I text him it becomes notice
we didn’t date we didn’t date
Japan Society flicker scream subtitle lag
I remember nothing but the lag
twelve minutes twelve minutes twelve
The oven is smart the oven is smart
it insists it insists
the middle keeps refusing
the middle keeps refusing
the middle has a calendar
the middle has meetings
There is a lighthouse somewhere inland
no one mentions it
it is not helping
it is blinking anyway
I’m holding the bags I’m holding the bags
why am I holding the bags
who gives someone all the bags
I could sue I could eat
I eat I eat
twelve minutes
There is also a horse in the apartment
this contradicts the lighthouse
the horse is calm
the horse has opinions about airflow
The instructions keep talking
the font is friendly
the wing remains shy
I’m still on the couch
this still counts
this still counts
the box is confident
confidence is not heat
The dog is forgiven
the bags are still in my hands
the lighthouse is now a hallway
the horse has left without saying thank you
and then I think maybe the wing
or the idea of the wing
or the part of me that waits
for instructions to mean something
when really it’s just heat and time and
time and time and time and