the moon is everything, light gives the illusion
of warmth, but everything
has been known to make me sad;
I'm grown up now and tired, one stammers
the guard rails, the lights on because you are or are not home
is this your town? the wind at the mirror
the space between trees between
I am empty/I am innocent everything
can make me believe
my feet get scared when
the moon flashes light on the dash
the thing pointed at: headlights in the mirror
each difference I can't forget: taillights ahead
a certain transparency unfolds
in the darkness
a certain petulance
can make me lost because you are or are not home
is this your town? excuse my reach: repeat after me
somewhere there is a box to put everything you find into
somewhere this inevitability subsides, somewhere
my feet are scared
the wind in the space between
this dance takes years to learn and years to unlearn and years to learn again
