Roadkill
All these sheathed skeletons
on the interstate at night, following
protocol as we head towards
a harbor illuminated by
solar-powered mirrorballs,
miniature & disfigured, federally
financed rural towns. Rough
start, coughing grey particulates.
A farm dog snaps out of its truck-
bed fugue state. It can’t keep going on
this way that we have gone already,
in which we waste all our time
mashing bugs into bigness,
bodies generationally swelling
up past thumbprint. A fruit
fly declares itself angry, exhausted &
it screeches all perceived misfortunes
into its landlord’s bellybutton
before turning to smeared jam.
In response, the landlord
declares this his last straw when
there are so many straws left
in convenience stores that he won’t bear
to leave unpurchased. Come on,
we can find something
else, eddy towards another
disagreement in the city.
Look—above, a hawk’s
wingspan wraps us up
many times over—of course it
doesn’t, though it could, of course
it does. All waking spent looking,
blinking to look again. Pollen-
glutted small town residents
sheltered by their ceilinged
mornings scour daily for entry
to that rumored road-
kill kingdom. Come! Arms,
joined to estranged torsos
soften open
for us. Imagine crisp paper bags
back over heads, our nails
bit to blood.
A headless highway
possum midway through
inquiring how we like it
here, how this past winter
has been, heralds a second
glance before becoming
a blurred twitch in our family’s
fogged rearview.
LOVETRIP
shotgun sugar baby can you make yourself useful &
say how fast i’ve gotta go to get us there by night
fall how long until my spit turns to rime & if you’re cold
don’t do the bit where you shiver until i speak & you get
upset when it’s not instant just roll the glass real easy greased
up for yourself you big girl you sweet bones when you
want to be when would you want to switch let’s just
do it on the road no need to slow & i don’t mean to
worry you but the lines are starting to wave out loud
pleasantly what’s that sound what’re you saying to me
we’ll get there sure or soon enough & my god how
many times do i have to ask you not to smoke in here
lit end of cigarette winking between pinks i know i’ll see
if you’ve got me in hand & if you’ve room left over don’t
you dare tell me don’t you know don’t we say what dares
i am driving & am driving dashed lines are dribbling but
which layer is misting baby look & tell me is it a layer in-
side this skull or something i could resolve by backtrunk
toolbox i am still driving stillblinded & my god where
have i gotten myself now.