The same hot day comes
everyday but plains don’t ask
why animals. Animals came
uninvited to punch holes find food undo the monotony
come and retreat like string zipped through a loom
pleasurable tear of my body like handmade cotton the sucking of milk of figs the talking pendulum of a clock i hear it the seconds exhale harmonious immolation unspilling of wine my slaughter moans in her sleep
The hung row
of neon lights is a pretty
meadow. Behind the exit
door is a cold dark hole.
It’s easiest to press the weight of my head against the seatbelt, let it lock up, and watch the highway channel fill up with visions. A green ford blurs against the exit ramp. A white chevy malibu floats through the road, its tires washed into the scenic night. In my altered state, everything round is the moon.
The nervous curtains flitter like useless arms.
They motion to people on the street. Stop.
Look inside, they say, at the drama unfolding
behind this breakable glass. The lamps cock
their shades to listen for wreckage.