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An American Dream
All night I follow
the same path
the bullet traveled,
& when I wake
before light,
there’s the heavy metal music
of garbage men
banging garbage cans.
Unfinished Furniture
You want to ask
if there was
a loud splash
when that boy
fell out of the sky.
You want me
to tell you
where he kept
the amphetamines
that he used.
Sorry. Don’t know.
But I got paint
on my shirt
and pants,
a color called
Lighthouse Shadows.
The Blue Hour
God Has a Big Eraser,
the letters spelled out just before fading.
The tender light of twilight was leaking away.
There were people on the street,
but they scrupulously avoided my eyes.
Shadows invited everyone in.
And such music! Like falling water
or the roundness of a woman’s breast.