Motel on the moon
number over my head
through the suburbs
just inches from my person
we hover probably not
to these mountains.
Dark cartographer
draw a map
of the great American
tomorrow.
Dusk loves sitting on the porch
so I resemble
counting the truant ocean
and calmly pass the man with an edge.
Officer forever
unravel the world.
A tiny ship is changing clothes,
stop staring at the scene.
And then the quiet post card bled
the heart’s thick beautiful smoke.
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