BOWLING NIGHT

 

cool saucer of light
above the bed frame,
a room is just a membrane
containing the potential energy
of leaving
I wanted your proximity
to challenge me
I wanted to say
bridging the gap
but I performed it
for you instead
motel sign moon
over the bowling alley
and your face
soft as pond scum
the power lines
as frames for their
slivers of landscape,
a song like the smell
of melted plastic,
a dream trace paper
version of the present,

​

the spider confronting
its reflection in the rear view