Under the Edge

I could engrave this day
w/a scrap of rain
              & dueling beer cans
but the flickering celluloid sky
                              ain’t feeling it

The painted waves here give me a place to hide
if I want it while the strings
              of an expensive magic
                              draw me into the open
a simple gift, if you will

as such two fingers of tequila
& a heart as black as midnight Ray-Bans
can take one to the edge
& back again

                              the way this jungle of details
are reflected off a mirror

or maybe right through it

to the ruins of a forbidden future
where poems are made of stones
& the wind