I’ve been counting down
every number has its history
from pity to deceit
walking now through the canyons
downtown
“I left all my visionary equipment in the car”
the backstory deleted & the
sun multiplied by towers of glass
(The ghost of an elegant abalone shell abstraction
you’ll see if you close your eyes
all the details are just reflections)
But dark as the long trip back through
endless constellations
of streetlights & neon defined
to trace that spectral
& return
The graffiti on the overpass says
“Sooner or later
you too shall burn”