Another blue period in the front seat,
Dashboard dented, the steering wheel frayed,
We come together as everything comes apart,
We just want to stop the peeling
We take our joy compounds together
Among the spindles of weeds and bridges
Toasting to promises of prosperity past,
Nature is out here for us, close enough to wild
The communion quickly dissolves
Into chemicals though our bloody barriers,
I hold back the crazy, knowing there is another
As mad as me in this madhouse of my making
Our laughter turns into a visible language,
And soon we itch all over with warmth,
Pink marches on and takes over the lightning,
We lay down, the world is a womb again
Header photograph © Asher.
Ben Nardolilli currently lives in New York City. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine, Red Fez, Danse Macabre, The 22 Magazine, Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae, fwriction, Inwood Indiana, Pear Noir, The Minetta Review, and Yes Poetry. He blogs at mirrorsponge.blogspot.com and is looking to publish a novel.
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