The window shade was sealed shut.
Harry could not bark at black cats,
but I could not be cheered
by the arrival of a new day.
Evergreen needles poked at my lungs.
Frost shooed away the new heavens.
Mexico with guns and no map.
Stole a horse and bummed pop.
Full tank of gas,
stark desire to go nowhere,
but I went to work anyway.
The garage door was open.
I rode like an elephant on my hospital bed.
Safe, but my bed was fast and unrestrainable.
I laid giant, orange turds in sharp and frigid pot holes.
The people loved me softly but didn’t follow me.
When I pulled in and parked at work, pulled sheets away,
my trunk meandered round and round,
praying gently for deliverance of love and water.
I dragged my brain in full, cavernous gutter.
Heater was plagued and polluted sanity.
Fresh tires loved the asphalt. My thinned hair hung
in murky, squalid water with floating Popsicle sticks.