This is
my
idyllic, broken Midwest.

Something is happening
within me                (within these bones)
the thing                                     (the beast)
that shakes
and moves
is reawakening

If you want to watch, she'll dance again
Your drugs are expensive today
everything was cheaper before
and life is beginning to bore

If you want to **** again, she'll go another round
bring her down around town, smile and frown

So if Heaven is full, I know a place we can go
Let me know if this seedy city is too much
if her face is pretty much muck
I think you might be stuck

But she still dances, and you're still watching
from the balcony and the beacon

the lifeless girl drowned in the Mekong
where was she escaping to, or from?

From across the hall, I watched her double
over Coleridge, sympathizing as she looked
up to the thin curtain filtering the street-light
universe past the pane held in hot glue.
The click-heels, car barks, ceaseless L-Train
turnstiles, tipsy choirs in cracked-door taverns,
hinges, keys on carabiners, bus hydraulics,
the wall clock, and her fingers caressing the page.
She loved a soft wind carrying birdsong
through screen doors and dowel chimes.
She used to leave her shoes lace-tangled
by the key rack until she saw glass pollen
sparkling in a caged tulip blossom.
She raised the book and sullenly whispered
the last stanza of Frost at Midnight
into the spine, wondering how anyone
could live away from impressionist-dandelion
forests, children's plastic toys in the front yard,
and church bells at every hour.

I wondered the same thing.

be over the clouds behind the mountain or over a hill
may a lottery winning be one dollar away or
Publisher's Clearing House knock on my door?
Might Audrey Hepburn be eternally young stalking me,
might cat bark and dogs not **** on fire hydrants
or ants be less numerous
or gone be alive or time slow down, might
the rainbow shine, all the colors combined into bright.
All the wishes be at her end in a *** of golden
love and eternity?