‘fuck. how’d we even get here ?’
I don’t know.
over the schuylkill?
through northerdawns & bleeding jetlag
,all the memories starch stiff between the sheets of
::the /in/significance between then)&(now
or maybe it was that lefthand turn back there at the gas station where the Mexican guy, buried in clothes, filled the tank for us as the consequence of some government program I didn’t understand, and we hurtled down Monmouth Rd past the frightened trees and weatherbeat saltbox houses wilting at the intersection ….
before the hopeless threepointturn
+ (di)still of the fluttering whiskey flakes
filtered through sundown
ran my fingers through a bonewhite snowfall
;got up & breaking the ribs of an open jersey plain
we drank bitter coffee, & i fumbled through some
recollections of Walden Pond
the concord turnpike + a giftshop
so i could misquote what i’d read on the cape about
new clothes,new men,the bare spines of shipwrecks
Originally submitted for publication in Woroni’s Creative Edition. Illustrations by Abigail Widijanto.
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