She talks about that one dead end
As if it's hallowed ground and not the edge of town
Where the city stops so the pavement stops
She thinks there's buried bones there
She may be right but no one's digging any time soon
The stories she tells
As the excitement swells and sweats
They're as true as a shy man's wedding vows
All bent toward great heights
Invented at the moment
Aroused and uninvited
She calls cameras
She stalls camera crews
The regional news
Gives her a segment
I think of that parking lot
As hope unearthed
Dashed and cursed
Speed bumps 'til the fence and forest
So dense. So warm. So porous
I wish we had more space and time
Fewer power cords, fewer shoes
Cotten swabs and rotten jobs
A trade off, one and not the other
Blood angel, two mothers
No fathers, a galaxy of pixelations
October 23, 2009
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