Night Lane Closures

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.


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.