November 12, 2015Fixed by poopbutt 


The nightfall's like a house of mirrors
The shuttered deadmall and the Sears
Where my mother worked for years
In the nineties
The drugstore dried out parking lots
A fluorescent crest of snow still rots
Piling in the handicap spot's
Blind-freeze there
The touching-towns have special wants
M-59 and the salad-bar-restaurants
Something in it always taunts my
When I'm smoking g______ Pontiac
And the hidden end of the Amtrak
Woodward and the good word crack and the
Exhaust fills the air
A cul-de-sac
Has sweetly softened
The coughing memory
Dulled and black
Far too often
Black ice on the greenery
And all the women
Sap me with their sadness
And now I'm sad too
But Pontiac's not
The heart of darkness
But freezing on the brink
Where I am at
Some fading starkness
Where the brains of darkness think
The firmly-fixtured-fast-food-beacons
Do not dangle, do not weaken
Neither does the heart I'm seekin'
In you
Mary-Lynn you wouldn't know
But you do too have holy glow
But how am I supposed to show
You you?
'Cause your voice through those holy nodes
Marked me like the salted roads
Chalky white, the night forebodes
The coming
'Cause your throat throttled northtown boys
From the Rochesters and Troys
They will also hear your noise
Drumming low
The wilderness of floating text
The endless half-conscious of present tense winter s__
Do you see how it connects
In me?
Because they touch in such awful blurs
Their cough is full with all it remembers
Draining the stripmall containers
To find me there
The Silverdome, the Palace
The silt-slush road and all its malice
Sweethearted and waiting for me
Your face flushed like a toilet
Where I could only soil it
To unearth all my worth so futilely
St. Joseph is black-ice-gripped
And all the mailboxes are very tightlipped
With the way they know my name
And all the black ice ever gives
Twenty swerving adjectives
Repeating and cheating in our game
In Pontiac the night falls like a whim
Looking back, the night just seemed to brim
Down the track, dangerous and grim
In the black we all look so dim
And the night has a yellow-gray-glow
It's as though
The whole world's my halo
The grocery story bright light
Aisles of the night
Piling the blackwhite
The whole strip-mall plaza
Wheezing with asthma
On your miasma
The night has a yellow-gray-glow
It's as though
The whole world's my halo

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