Our passages are similar to waves:
insistent flow as seldom marking quirks
as calibrated clouds. Each class behaves
in pulses – curving average made of jerks –
except a freak of custom may be seen,
occasional and rational and rare,
who interrupts the lull of the machine
and squirts ammonia phrases in the air.
Then dogged culture startles back, confused
and skirting like the surf against a wall
a city built.
                        Those qualities I’m used
to tilted yesterday, and made a small
adjustment, leaving space for something strange:
the gracious moment incident to change.