Hey! that's my boy in jeans / by river by the / lake the water / the fishes the / special gas station

The State of Cinema

There are no more blonde women with red lipstick left to walk slick cobblestones alone. The run in her stocking says that the wars have ended. An old man wipes a soiled handkerchief across his brow, smiles at nothing.

Dreaming in Wine Country

This dream is a teenaged revision of terrestrial bodies / that do not harm. Our eyelids like foldaway flowers. My heart like a gosling I follow / expecting your mouth pulling north.