Friday, February 16, 2007

Sacred Overpass II

Look there belch-throat, the sea lined Shangri-La
You will never measure up to. Aventura, fake pumice

So high-rised you cant see the failure of detail, the so
Not Spanish looking evaporating into the strata

Of wealth, nude but for its own money. I unfasten
My longing, the Intracoastal will not permit my breath

Of truck tires, humility bred from the ruined parking lots
Out near the stadium of gnats, hero of sea-urchins,

Professional measurer of dust, (which by the way is shot
Glass by shotglass). Look, look, The Unachievable

So shudderingly beautiful and air-conditioned and coastal
Moneyed that a million gallons of mercury will transform

Into honey before I can smother it with my eyes, before
The turnpike will hand me a cocktail and nudge me over.

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