Alone Again

The Weeknd begins.

Synths slice

highways with

Vader’s saber

until Saturn

taillights ring

around the off-ramp,

gas station signs

flicker with

shifting gears.

Trapped inside

the moonroof,

one Boeing

dashes from

Leo’s claws

only to fall into

Orion’s crosshairs

while back home,

too tired to sleep,

the bordello glow

hums over me

and the leather chair

before hushing

into the far corners

of the basement.