Nowhere

Her cigarette burned blue,
while she flipped through
some old magazine,
laying on her chest
there on the couch,
when I asked her
why she threw away
her phone.

She kicked her bare feet
and turned the T.V. up
letting smoke pour
from her lips
and didn’t answer
so I left her there
and walked
until the city became
nowhere.

I fell asleep
under a dead tree
where I had dreams
of the cold ground
moving below me
carried by my jacket
by the cardinals
of the deep woods,
fat from all the worms
born out of melting snow,
who between up and down
could not agree on
where to let me go.