You button one button.


“The sky is an engine, isn’t it?” You say nothing.

The wind gets the cirrus going
and the low clouds duck
between the buildings.

“You can smell the thunder” I say
as the cat arrives with a wing in his teeth.

You button one button.
Kick a clump of white roots.

Carlights catch your face
and for one moment–I swear–your skin
turns to moon.

Some extra exhaust drips down the pipes.
Gasoline flicks a fox-tail on my nose.
“You can smell it” I say it heads
for my throat.

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