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<title>Sense of it | Autocento of the breakfast table</title>
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<h1 class="title">Sense of it</h1>
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<p>I only write poems on <a href="stagnant.html">the bus</a> anymore.<br />I sit far in the back to be alone.<br />I mark black things on white things in a black thing.<br />I try to make sense of it.</p>
<p>Every time I see a plastic bag in the wind I think:<br /><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qssvnjj5Moo">This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.</a><br />Most of my life I relate to something on the TV:<br />This is how I try to make sense of it.</p>
<p>The Talking Heads song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9r7X3f2gFz4">“Stop Making Sense”</a><br />is about a girlfriend caught cheating and willed oblivion.<br />The song’s real title is “Girlfriend is Better”<br />but <a href="the-night-we-met.html">lying</a> about it is a way I try to make sense of it.</p>
<p>The day after I lost her I found you again.<br />Your face made a plastic bag of my heart.<br />Your eyes were <a href="cold-wind.html">the wind</a> pushing the bus forward.<br />I couldn’t make sense of it.</p>
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