jupiter blues

i’m taking the back roads again, caught
in the dark folds of the map; on foot,

turning down that alley i know
is bad news—walking straight in-

to the waiting chase i always
barely escape—like careful

gravity pulling me down in-
to the deepest cavities:

black eyes and hands
like a cave-cage. i break out

and run toward your voice,
the most intimate gift

you can give from way
over there. i would take

the 310 train, but i have no
idea where that is and i’m

nowhere near miami.
you used to love watching

mom get ready, dabbing things
onto her face and neck in

the oblong mirror: the dis-
tortion familiar and needed.

you died in your sleep in
the early morning rain.

at some point before-hand,
you left that voicemail:

you should see the write-
up about her;

she’s making the big
bucks now.

your belief in me
was my life blood.

it still comes through in
dreams: echo shadows of

things that once were; a temporal
cure for things i may never know.


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