Broken light at my back
bridges jumping arcs
flights popping at the neon orphanage
on the scratched mattress
and eating in the flash
a groundhog, a high unit
of fog.

Broken light at my back
pushing cars aside
dumping libraries into the sea
that I dive after,
coming up kissing the plow
for no reason.

Time was reeling after us,
we caught it sniggering,
we beat it into submission.