imagine a mattress abandoned
on the side of i-390 on the rock salt (somehow from the sea
leaning up against that sloping cliff’s edge of land

locked up in villages unvoiced)
a makadikadi daydream–
a back against the crust of earth
as young strangers whispered and daydrank
just inside
across the crackling barrier–

distant suns stretched icicles
on eaves of barely empty buildings–
houses with no owners watched,
nestled against sidewalks coated over in warning
of a return to rest

noise-cancelled
shoe-gazing

black coffee frozen in the doorway–
against a tapestry of laughter through AM radios and portable speakers

pretending to nap