in the white bronco
the parents are safely dead
of generous evenings
when you hit the cold air at its
youth, this is perhaps a day
humming: ‘these enigmas will never
be resolved at the level of narrative coherence.’
just use this speed ball against realism
like your formal order, your empiricism meets
the non-sequiturs
the cigar smoke
in the day-lite,
streamed from houses
unloved in
