EXCERPT:
I hover over our old fire
like red, fluorescent smoke.
I sense her spirit in the collective grid
but it’s only a crux of my own creation.
In my mind I am a lost realist. I roam under orange-amber streetlights that will never be on—at the same time as the sun. I get another drink and rush away to a far corner of the club. A little sad, a little restless—I let myself get lost in the pulsating beat of the music. This room is filled with mirrors, but I can’t see myself in any of them.
