Scwhinn rests in back seat
of my blue convertible;
leaving, I’m sorry.

Snails sprawl fine sand, dawn
spills like waste into the sea.
I don’t care either.

Mobil Station next
rest stop, where I phone my love.
Busy; no answer.

Coked & dancing, I
think of Cape Cod now, your voice.
Shivering barstool.

I’m safe now in town.
I sleep late with my new love.
Remember? Say yes.

Cool, professional,
like a river is a slave
for sun, I seek love.

Pepsi & money
flow easy; I need you here
while I am just past young.

I stall on the bridge,
press my emergency light.
Berkeley, a lifetime.

Midnight. Heaven is
bathing, the window open.
Just a kiss away.

Aren’t they always
mistaken for images,
your Invisibles?

A coyote, bats,
they put me in no mood here,
I can’t touch myself.

And think of the moon
who is my family since
I have no children.

Are fish unconscious
and mute? Last night I ate one
in lime sauce. Year pass.

My car, your shadows.
Roadrunner skids to the door.
My friends are scattered.

What will the new art
be made of? Dusk, a snowfall,
same cold human feet.

Easter Sunday sun.
Stewardesses picketing
United parade.

-Jane Miller