kids pretending they’re airplanes soaring into the wind
hang-gliding their way along the sidewalk
midair smiles pooled on their tiny faces
while something magnetic triggers a sprig of joy
a letting go
that shoots rest through the shrieked delight of horns
shake this land
sturdy and shoddy
with faded dollar signs
overt to the touch of mentioning
living at the tops that you’re not anymore
direct hits stenciled in redwhite&blue
ever the wits of wanting getting taken again
back and leashed to the tip of the tongue
under the cap of hairless reveries
we can’t hide like snails or
reinvent these same old inventions
so hills of blueberries can speak like gravel
guess my weight and I’ll buy you a five-dollar bill
just so lincoln’s face can grift through my hands
the gashouse gang has gone home for the winter
the baltimore chop has come back into style
we need belts
just not in the face
this time my
nose
can’t take the brunt
of things
come my way
anymore
my clothes are estivating somewhere
south of nowhere
there is nobody at fault
there is nothing to attempt
a rule of thumb attacks the hand that starves it
we are creatures of advertising slogans
run away with me
you better run
run
run away
with me
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