I imagine there are some lucky ones who
find the thing--the thing!--

sweet in its unfolding, in its combining with
all the other floating data,

away from
recollection, form, languaging, or,
worst, the private build-up that all but guarantees
flat soda.

Come clean.
Okay.

For a guy like me,
what's sweet must surprise

and then run
quickly
away. What was that,

I wonder, that
scent of wildest

. . . ? Let me not
know

a little longer,
god, keeper, author of this tiny
human
applause.
I want to be a better man.