Plastic Bag

in crossways of slow        clouds

as warm rays melt        their path

I gather my rough              being

pale pastel                    grey dust

once sparkling                    white

oily smudge on my             heart

spirals            and wrinkled lines

crackling                           mildly

still alive             undestroyable I

 exist                         time-outside

 my entrance hole               opens

 and closes                    with wind

 with pleasure                  howling

 my palms shred           entangled

 with                     vehicles boiled

  swallowing             their essence

  I wave                           to people

  I fight for                         notice I

 dwell                                  in sky

  as once                in skinny hands

 carrying       their buys          they

   don’t own me               I go astray

  to show a way     to mixing fumes

 it’s                                stuffy stay

                                                  I go to ground

  tooth and a nail                     jump

  immobile          slow-mo wind cry

I see all vastness as I fall and    lie