with a sun lit cart
cans on ice and chimes
blanket for the infinite armchair
the neighborhood sky
a book with a marker
under smoke.
Walks between the moss
and trees peeled between winters
letting the story fade
for another song.
Engine in a crotch
on a logging road
lightning and rain
tangled glass radio dials
slicked anal smiles
across the jumped set aside pieces
and revving stars.
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