To Person, Place, or Thing

names fall so short
slip so far under the rubber mat
I can’t see anything beyond
leftover shadows of words
worried into hints of guitar picks

release date TBD

fireplace flames in another commons
once again get reflected
onto the street
setting another parked car’s
tail pipe on fire

it ends / not well / not the end

of the world
not nothing
the next corridor beckons us
to say something
about this skyway life

snow falls / blows around / wind chill kicks in

gender neutral storms
on the horizon
ones with no name at all
plot-driven beauty
has become so overrated

the eyes always tell on me

I tell myself you told no one
the way we told ourselves
it wouldn’t be the last
tell-tale half skull stare
into the low-hanging sun

wasn’t it a railroad bridge we used to cross

so deep into the night
the other side
would glow
with the most delicious fright
don’t wait for permission to choke

on tears while flying over the blaze

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