0552 mood 
lain with thistles 
awake well before the streetlamps 
shaken beneath the weighty dews of progress
beadened brows , but without labor 
former icebergs of time 

i dreambt of a sky so wide 
I could never dream of taking a bite 
but i did it anyway between conversations 
of archetypes laden
with wiper blade semi colons
without great pause
where my failures stirred no calamity .

the radio dial clicks;
I've met everyone I'll ever meet 
riding slow on those burgundy leather seats 
(now long lost
eloped with neglect)

the cigarette lighter clicks 
chrome too fine for my fingers
tho diligent 
have sieved their shape 
carved by loss, as if 
catching sand is what made them.
they are made by what they missed 

these look like such strong hands, don't they?

we talk about how people might miss the reference, now
we talk about my father
we talk about how our parents must feel
we talk about having kids, 
but by the time I have an answer you were someone else 

was I?