“Throw the calendar away,
gonna find a jukebox of steel. . . .
Revelry in borrowed clothes.”
—Jay Farrar (from “Jukebox of Steel”)

Two rivers merge
to make a third.

No longer a prehistoric tool
made of flint, I am

a new sidescraper
made from an abandoned,

three-story coke works mill
115 feet longer

than the Empire State Building
is tall.

I don’t make fire
since I put down

the pack and lighter,
since I gave away my power

for the last time.
A parting gift

for a man
who doesn’t fear

borders or wormholes.

Two songs merge
to make a third

I hum from a train
as it rumbles through

the Rust Belt.
I’ve gotten on

the wrong one.
The Capitol Limited

not the Lake Shore Limited.
The Empire Builder runs

nowhere near here.
And two cities won’t merge

to make a home.