damage done out here on the ghost road
i track the highways but never catch them
the city oozed away from there,
i hate to reckon how far, endless probably
endless miles between here and the old town
back then you’d roll clouds by the lid
and you had to cross the river for a beer
I’m full of empathy
and I’ve been a fool for love
I’ve been full of myself
and I’ve been fooled by
your lot enough
That is not a bat stretching its wings
more than likely its a bird
those scalloped edges make that clear
a smudged brown of a thing at that
yes, if you connect the edges
they’re ruffled.
I’ve just realized something,
the poet speaks,
as cars materialize and disappear
tumbling wrong angles
on this malinformed trip
