teaching the sun to drive

Afternoon traffic and a clasped arm near the pelvis.

Is light kind to us? Does it say something through heat and

our heavy helmet (missing text) scratchy posts and deadly cold, longing for fingers

and frost bites, the tips will fell, like a tree beside large hunkered Northern 

creatures, creatures to whims and sins and porcupine mountains rolling forever

in this new space that never lets go.  Condiments that appear and a tongue tastes

peach fuzzed arm, talent savant, prickly and picturesque, dark matter,

dark energy, ponders and bangs itself against, against.