Migration

No one knows what lane they’re in
or where to turn

Some skate by on the metal
under their wheels

The cheap cigars look like
dead tongues

Burning in their mouths
while all the keys

Take on a different shape
and everyone

Unlocks an unknown door
if in the chaos

They can even
somehow find one

I hope our new home
is a nice one

She says with her hand
on the car window

And her feet completely
naked on the floor

The ducks migrate in crowds
because they’re cowards

And the few that stay behind
have only time

To kill by treading while
the ponds freeze