paper doll circus

i see the power lines, red
light district lights blinking,
the turrets of wind farms
spiraling endless and how
the fuck am i supposed
to reach out and touch this,
this happiness, and know that
it is something i cannot keep?

here there is americana
upswept in dust, hot days
with nightshade and fire pits.
i will my camera to appear,
to take my mind’s eye photos
of railroad tracks and dirty boots
and the stillness of your face
when you fall asleep.

i want to remain in the space
where i hear your heart beat.

may i capture it in format?
can i paint it in straight lines?
i will sculpt a door in which
i may traverse to sometime
that this would be different
and i would be better. i would be
lots of things, anything;
instead this repeats.

i can loop too.
just not like you, not in
the magic way that i don’t really
understand, just like so much
about you, but i want it and
the echoes, the ghost doesn’t,
+++++ it doesn’t
it doesn’t matter to me.