on Alison’s birthday
One day a year
the past speeds up
& tomorrow’s shadow
jumps out ahead of you
& you really ought to
set aside that pack of
Lucky Strikes
for a rainy Tuesday in
Buenos Aires
where the music of a
steam powered guitar
sounds like a great white shark
chewing on a late model Buick
which to me always seemed
closer to the truth than this
feather climbing
into the pale blue heart
of a brand new sky