The aerodynamic
spiraling of
cappuccino colors
and butterfly words,
churches divide
and coffee-shops
offer something
that equally
scolds impatient tongues.  
Floodlights
liquidize in
the charcoal fog
and the girl in
the leather jacket
comes to life
beside the freeway.
Her shoes
are the ships
and her eyes
are the telescope,
but the streets become
the cement river
where the gasoline
creatures never stop.
This is where
they left her
to die,
this is where
they took
everything away.
She is nothing,
a mistake along
this highway,
but she was lucky
to be given
a name
that sounds good
on a tombstone.
Knowing this,
her pepper eyes
water and her body
collapses upon
brittle grass,
the Earth welcomes
her return.