Variable Frame Rate

The neighbor was squinting up at the glass eye

bolted above the door of my garage,

looking for a reason or a way to buy

a little piece of the local mirage.

I scrolled the timeline back to Tuesday night

to find a box that never actually came,

and found a ghost in the infrared light

who happened to have my face and my name.

I stood on the porch for three minutes straight,

just looking down at a dead brown moth.

I looked like a man who had decided to wait

for a ship that was never going to come off.