by mandaceehb

he’s long gone

too high up past the curvature of

milky white, azure blue earth

yet today he is still here

is active (the guy at the bank said so)

the sum of

whispers of fingertips and shadows of evaporated sweat stains in his savings account

he is a punctured identification card

a frozen smiling face

the guy at the bank takes the obsolete card with a steady hand

types in his identification details that

futilely bind him to our earthly obsessions

and stoically declares his account still