Empty hallways fill up with new morning light
this great plateau that we have known is going to
break ground on the impossible past.
All we want is just to make something last
at the expense of our present we look ahead
with no fire in our hands just the small spark in our hearts.
Caved in grocery carts line all the parking lots
that are frozen in the moment we gave up on the world,
and I saw you through the chaos like a flare in the sky
at the edge of our complete misunderstanding of the letters
in our names.
We can’t find interest in the strangers on the street
looking for something to eat while they mull over nothing
but the traumatic bent stop signs axing people in the brain.
Even the rain would be a miracle in this desert of our complacent
great mistakes. This monument to calamity that is somehow
shaping up to be a party, but its the kind where all the music
is too quiet and the person collecting keys is only half awake
as they should be. Still there are fireworks left on the shelves
because the sounds of explosions no longer carry the same weight
that they used to.
The lid comes off of the coffee so easily like it knows its destiny
is to allow access to all that’s inside it, and she scoops out the ground
darkness and lets the water run through it transmuting something
strong for us to drink. I’ve given up on trying to think my way out of this
the same way I know the wood in the coffin will never split the way
I need it to before I run out of air. There are notches on the timeline
like small pockets of plaque in an artery and it is at those points
where it is possible to make a new decision.
Another satellite collision happens over us silently and the sparks spread
out like salt across a table when it’s spilled, and it is so bright that the morning
is reborn before the night in an endless fight against all things
that are inevitable.