Highway Poems
Measured asphalt hours
Signs are jewels only to the sun
Cradling instants of memory
Egg for breakfast on my retina
Sunny side up
The sun is a warm trace
On my chest
The path of her last-night-goodbye lips
I took off my shirt to remember
Eyes sleeping closed
Hands sleeping crossed
I spoke moistened poems
On her breasts and nipples
Telephone wires
Bread slicing loaves of clouds
Jet-scar trails
On the smooth blue
Skin of heaven
Wood frame stories
Of living and dying
Gingerbread once iced their frames
Now iced with flaking paint
Proud beggars at the roadside
Stray dogs in their lap
Children’s voices in the wind
The sun passes geometrically
In my rearview mirror
A message from Copernicus
Its last dying strokes
Transported on the long trucks
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