i’ll rust, they seem to say.
sirens and two by fours and a thick yellow
light covering the herd
pictures start small and get bigger,
this is no mystery
the cars wait as long as they need to
imageposts
black highways pt. 5
but not until i was in the barnes and noble realizing
i sweat through my clothes
listening to the highway love unlimited album
trying to make out the letters on the tote bag
realizing i wasn’t wearing a mask
that no one was wearing a mask
o
gasping
black highways pt.4
a small white white wobbly
metal table
painted white but not having faded
significantly.
no clue what
we were talking about but i woke up
unable to go back to sleep
black highways pt. 3
i never know what to get
at a deli.
here it is:
that deli in chappaqua i used to stop in
when i would go to the
warehouse for deliveries. also the warehouse
itself
deli sandwich options always seemed
so bland and cold.
yellow cheese on a hard roll? i don’t know
what i got but there i am
sitting on public benches on the corner
we line up to strut
creating a world from
good health and fear
and traffic
bought me time.
here in my monday best
i shake the edges
1. Home is a sort of box. So is the car.
All borders and lines and walls. Graffiti or sledgehammer? That is the question.
it’s still early
it’s getting late early
Why do this?
Sunshine and Wind 