on waking in a warmed home
energized to write, to tackle
an old interface, happiness
certainly isn't necessary but
does seem to help with focus?
or maybe tasks are a thing
more easily done just after
a deadline has passed, or
labour can be procrastination
while the internal snowglobe
of self-image is settling?
jobs is fake,
jobs as smoothing functions,
all exchange value is exchanged
in the close bubble of friends,
but how is bubbles made? can we
make a bubble to cover a house/
town/city/state/profession/confession/
world? pulling together and pulling
apart like dough or mozzarella,
strengthening strands cross-linking,
fired together softly wired together
soft communities communing in
union unionizing the trades and
confessions, gifts and professions,
O simmer linger, linger learning
how to speak.