Fire face like a broken place,
mountainside unwavering against
the water slides that try to imitate them.
I think I hate them but it kills me to admit that
since I know it’s just a feeling
and a feeling isn’t anything but noise.
There isn’t anything here between
the liquor stores and people wanting more
of what they barely have.
There is a body being dragged by just
a parachute connected to the wind.
I don’t know why I am showing you this,
but it’s something I found when I was walking
and if you hold it you can almost see it glow.
I watch my hand sink through the surface
as it melts the snow, and become numb
to all the frozen air I’m turning into steam
that swirls around me.
The train tracks between places people
want to be are almost free, and spend
most of their nights just staring at the stars.
Until their view is blocked again
by waves of metal bars and noise
that makes the silence sweeter than it should be.
This is important for the sake of taking
something that is far away and making
it come closer to the points where it is needed
and we can choose it from our vantage point
in the spinning room of the funhouse
every summer.

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