just beyond the runaway truck ramp
ROUTE 80, NEXT LEFT illuminates beneath my headlights,
a shoestring road
stretching taught between the tin cans of our hometowns.
all i can see
is the brightly lit booth in the distance,
signs detailing price-per-mile,
toll tag readers flashing against the moonlight,
everything trying to warn me:
honey,
driving down this road is gunna cost you.
Tag: quote
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turnpike.
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at her.
poison comes from an old french word meaning magic potion
venom comes from an old french word meaning
poison
such is the fantastically etymillogical treasure map tucked under my arm;
where moments ago i was a poet, seeking precision,
now i am headlamped, machete thrashing, tracing some legend's circular roots.
Diana Jones and the Synonymous Sisters.
i find them
peering silent through the mist of history
the misery
and mystery.
aphrodite stands with her hand on the shoulder of her twin,
venus,
this goddess of love,
name soured, spat,
gone from injecting veins with the addled haze of lust
to now
the adder; a dark curse, a death knell.
in a way i'd always known i'd find some 'her' here;
XX marks the spot.
feminine wiles
to guile
to guilt.
in The Dictionary of Fine Distinctions
a page clarifies
poison is when you bite it
venom is when it bites you
and oh how i cycle
through all the things men never needed be afraid of
they simply needed to let be.
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love:
v. laying cornerstones with express intent; an anchoring, a leap, a prostration, an overture; the lifetime build of an infinitigon
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what are we even doing here?
maybe it's a hall pass
a gasoline can
a trapdoor.
maybe it's the thrill of collusion,
a firecracker that wouldn't light,
a pocketed twenty discovered years later.
maybe it's the zodiac (killer or birthchart, both are relevant in their way) or
an inside job or
an inside joke or
a nutcracker.
maybe they're portholes or periscopes, epigraphs, business cards,
flipbooks, cigars, a safety deposit box.
a stranger wordlessly giving up their seat on the tram,
a fiftieth floor railing that couldn't possibly pass inspection,
a traffic light that flashes yellow after midnight.
maybe their calls come from inside the house.
oh,
okay, sorry,
you just wanted an answer.
what is a poem?
well
a few are a thumb on your cheek.
they are all two fingers on your neck.
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