Even if I didn’t mean what I said
the tattooed sky would still have tilted
the way an afterimage remains
like a star hooked on shadows
elicits that sad lookaway in the fading light
I figure would take at least 150 pages to
explain
some days seem endless like a Russian novel
others are more like a failed reality show
From vaulted cathedral glass
to tropic pavements
& sleek getaway
engines doomed to
mortal destiny
fuel injected
Aztec interiors
multiplied by degrees of Nowhere
I should have died in TJ that time
I had my ticket punched & everything
shuffling through the glass pages of every ocean
in the backseat at 90 miles an hour
& she was gazing out thru the windshield
inventing thermodynamics
pictured as a beautiful blue tide
rushing in beneath the burnt-pink windows
of forever