pigeons seem to find
this abandoned L platform
fine
pigeons seem to find
this abandoned L platform
fine
you may be lost
but—around you—nothing
else is
a way of
hearing traffic—the pant
of exertion
wayward
signals sailing by
vanished stars
for another hour
we drove past mauve curtains
of distant rain
floating, ignorant—
never noticing needing
air or helmet
dreaming
of journeys—a star’s light,
never lost
instead let’s
designate Mars a place we
wish we deserved
stumbling along
meandering lines from here
to there, somehow
highway seams
so close together the car
rattles