Lets dissect ourselves,
Extinguish our flame,
And eat our electricity.

Lets fly to the edge of that map that hangs on my wall,
The little border,
ribbons of navy and maroon will be our vessel of freedom.
We can walk back and fourth,
Between the tightropes on my compass,
And I will wear a crown of land.
But keep in mind, that little border is about as
straight and narrow
as it gets.

I look back at the clutter of the shadow,
Still black with interruptions of window,
and great, heaving plumes of molten air.
The glass is oiled up with
the dirt of love.
And I am surprised to see myself suspended there,
In a web of smoke and grime,
Waving back at myself.