white // night // noise

a faint voice reverberates
inside an old blue
police box // remember
you are precious

cargo // I do
remember the sound
of those words entering
the atmosphere // the plot

the drunk friend // now dead //
driving me around // all over
town // I was drunk // half
the time too // scared

the rest // other voices
echo along an acoustic corridor

don’t have time for you //
can’t work a room // can’t get a license
to drive // wounded // freak //
genius // you have the good life

are you originally
from Staten Island // natural
chalk pigment spreads
across your fire-damaged branches

the cabin fever you suffer
from tonight will not wash
off without an astringent
unearthed from a tunnel

beneath a street
434 light-years away // the spine

of a death
wish cracks before crumbling
on the rocks // ice protects
the song // don’t really need it

big star // little dipper // we
share the same moon

in search of Polaris
the fixed point needed
to navigate us
through the wreckage

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