skyline

even in the archive light,
the night knows why I shuffle south like this.
without sterling.

in Nashville...
reading poems about you.

I walked here.
after
up there.
after
steeples stabbed me.

I am glad to be lost amongst better poets.
and the fact that no one here knows who I am.
darker streets.
no one knows they are poets here.

in an old white limousine.
with Tennessee plates.
hysteria.
beers.
forget me.
ten hours.
divided by good seven moments.
screwed up by screwdrivers, both.
been here before I was born.

I left pages on trains.
memorabilia.
for things I cannot control.

I wish you were here.
helping me not bleed or blur.
this is the hardline.

snow falls on railroad tracks and girls.
in the belly of the month of May.
this is a weird place.
with a lot of sky, lining the thunder with notes of naught.
sun-roof,
there is no sea here, but the seas are rough.
in the space above.