You can take my hand
anywhere. Tonight,
let it be the story of smoke

Now only one thing is bright enough
to cast a shadow—Venus.

I would like to tell you
that I went easily
or that, hand over hand,

They always said it was horrible,       the way the man
who looked like my father died.          Sometimes, it was what
                                                                                                        appeared

Humans live
long in proportion to
what they don’t

This is the 31st time I’ve been here,
he says, leaning on a walker.
Even though he’s sitting next to me

Hail the greasy automatons,    each circuit of hunger
traced on linoleum—    toward dishwater and marinara
and back under the radiator.    A commute from airless blind

The cliffs on this heart-
land lake terrorize me.
Eroding and standing