I like going to the ends
of things, knowing
what is coming. Is it all
just green signs & malls?
Or do friends chain
themselves to cattle
guards, attempting
insurrection? Something
like a street is endless,
gutters funneling
the same dirty water
everywhere I go.
The taco chains grow
bolder as the right-
of-ways go on
& on, at grade or
below. Trucks with
yellow striping
play the asphalt
like a horsehair bow,
violence & violins,
sawing back & forth
between real time
& a somnambulant
waltz. I am stuck,
always in the middle,
eating chicken wings
at dusk, trying art
for the first time. My heart
& what it hearts
is not exhaustive, but
it will be enough to reach
you, or at least to start.