Here I am
stuck forever, baby,
in your teary basalt eyes.
Although I’m No Geologist; Blackout Lust; Crossing a Bridge; Fugitive; I Feel a Tremendous Peace
I Can’t Remember the Kind Nuns, First Grade, Fourth Grade, Eighth Grade, Age 38
One day I ran away
from school, down a long
hall of doors closed.
Sun shining, first bridge was
walking distance, no plan after.
anomalies in the nuclear degree;
I rest my forehead against vibrating window glass.
It was hard to look past the glare of city lights or
the fog of warm breath
but life bleeds through its filters and forced me to watch.