made a motorcycle decision
in a place where love broke the future
for a night and a narrow now.
is this just a violent outcropping of animism
or petrified lightning lost in time?
in the long dumb run,
I am just a man, a Yankees fan,
with a spermatocele cyst,
without the ability to sleep.
and so the party purveys
plenty in the pantry of my heart
and mind, where the alphabet
is all my elbows
and girls are always gone.
I won't stop
chasing that question
of when to stop.
I will guess at the bottom
and forget the floating top,
because life is as long as the circle of earth's horizon,
which bleeds into the stars.