Could be left,
could be right. Before
or after the rain. Ambiguous
warnings are not ambivalent
flashes. Torches puncturing
the dark sky to beckon
and repel
with equal force. And
detours don’t reveal
themselves so easily.
highway
Streamlines
A meeting rumbles in the back
room. I could be
one of them. But
I like my margin
where I can hitchhike
rides to dark dreams
and musings
about collocating
my secrets with old
punk gods. I could delve
into euphoric recall
from a passenger
side high in a flying
coffin. Repentance. It was those
black leather police
jackets that got very cool.
