Reading after

This town is walking amidst fraying

Telephone poles and new

Hondas, toeing its careful line, hiding

Its red face. There is a hand reaching

Deep, rooting around its cemeteries

And office parks. How does google feel

About that? About its disappearing ink?

Where is the anger over tiarimisu?

Every root is striving here for the deep.

I have been inside her all the way.

Neither of us has a way to forget that.

When I want more

And she wants more,

We are quiet with the world,

And then we cry. There is a crumbling

Happening and the world must change.

We are home, but it is no longer here

To be taken and pumped. Every year

A little less in the tank. I love her

And this world must change for that.