Seeping through my starving eyes,
the neighbor props up windows,
walks around my veins in slippers,
seems to already know
which corners give
the best light
for reading.

it was a wood-paneled hell
with two doomed friends,
nicotine-stained,
beginning the end,
the dust of our daring,
the carpet's latest layer.

the shards of glass
we stomped on
were duller than the stones.
we'd crawl out at dusk,
and pace over
and over
our inside jokes,
in that motel cul-de-sac,
circling like trash.

"someone should tear this place down."

*

now the streets seem shorter
and the root beer parking lot
where i read youth to sleep
snuck up on me.

a quick dangerous flick
of eyes over shoulders,
a last-minute dare
for a chain-link slice
of where the ending
all began,

but the ******* tore it down.

"i think i remember
the first time,
i was maybe ten.
in a football stadium,
i remained seated
in a stampede of joy,
felt me sinking lower
lower and lower,
beneath healthier
hooves..."

the hours pass like clouds
on some other higher plane,
far from me
but big enough to see.

and the sunlight performs
its slow surgery
slicing my toes,
before moving upward,
on to more vital, failing
things,
before flashing its badge
and clocking out.

and i start again,
"i think i remember
the first time,
i was maybe ten....."

the hours play pianos
through the scaling
spiraled
march of truth,
out my window
afternoons,
fleet of foot
and sharp of tooth.

stranding through the moments
come glimpses
of tomorrow's
news,
inked in future
blacks and blues,
just off beat
and out of tune.

surely there's a braving
somewhere
waiting for a
nickel rube,
selling something
old men use,
softer eyes
or faded suits,

where sighs are money,
and sleep is grace,
i can settle in
the spot they've saved.

Ether phases, cones of power,
lunar cycles,
witching hour.

Many mansions, herbs and candles,
live aloud,
the goddess answers.

I.

you grinned at me
simple and syrupy,
a dollar reason,
a summer treat.


II.

like a road map
on a car hood,
we checked and folded
checked and folded
each other's lines
again
and again.


III.

you winced hard
against acid mist.

i watched
the bug spray bead
on your calves
and neck,
thought about blood
and the taste of you
later.


IV.

we drove around
looking for lakes,
or parks,
or picnic tables.

any new place
we could be the same.


V.

no matter how used to it
we get,
the sun stalks longer
than we'd expect,
jealous of our colors,
worried we'll set.

After the linens,
I turned out my pockets,
was reminded
where I found you
and how much it cost.