I don’t understand this

weather.

I don’t like this

light.

Dunbar’s.  Closed.

Big Red Ice Cream.  Closed.

Rose Theater.  Closed.

Ritz Theater.  Closed.

Playland.  Closed.

HIWA Drive-In.  Closed.

Izzo’s Pharmacy.  Closed.

JB’s BBQ.  Closed.

King’s Records.  Closed.

Crawford’s.  Closed.

Junior’s.  Closed.

Cocroft’s.  Closed.

Last night, I passed

slowly by the Epitome.  Its dry, stone eye shut tight,

came

home,   

through

blank and empty streets flat as oblivion,

and drank

down the smooth

edges of a liquid night,

washing through rolling alleys of wasted indigo sky

pinned down beneath the whispering burn of silver-blue stars,

searching for what was

never found.

Crack me open so the starlight can spill out. 

Read my palms. 

Taste what my eyes have seen. 

Listen to my tongue. 

Stew me in my own heart. 

I had a dead girl’s wisdom

teeth.

If I put them in my mouth,

what would they say

after all this time?

“Where are your places now?”