LUNCH WITH AN OLD FRIEND wish I still knew how to talk about games movies television sports blue fish waddling onto soil of questions trudges leaves bodyprints wet move closer to some common thread we may yet find yet know a fishing line in the reel of your hand mouth brain our friendship was incorrigible as the moon in a poem in a lit mag super nintendo and the cement unfinished scent of basements carpeted staircases doritos always going down down down affection every thump downward like the rest of life tumbling through deserts of thought mist sandstorm the sun wrangles some truth out of stranded windows translucent sunlight shifting across the wooden table of distance time summers KOMPROMAT in a moscow hotel room shadow brokers partied with stolen american cyberweapons over the counterintelligence they wanted public the americans drank everything LYFT SHIFT (2/9/17) driving in circles around the city snow caps on all cars little mountains shivering tiny motors no one knows the name of anyone only a word on a screen a face forgotten and city lights there’s a light rain mixed with snow the roads not slick I am driving picking up passengers at the end of the night I am no further than I was at the beginning. THE DRONE OF FACELESS PEOPLE Rolling Acres mall
outside the record store white hats enter to leave shadows every small step a rattle of longing blueprints for after -college dreams rosewood a tinge in glass displays reflecting fluorescence so bright you sneeze rockets then angle toward the stars didn’t the Etch- A-Sketch always lure you canvas and sky hunched over red tablet twisting striated knobs handmade lines stretched star to star everything tethered together a fishing wire baited
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