he reaches the lid
feels the wind as it blows life back
keep floating in the mud
the trashcan is dumped
he gently changes bags
while hearing the crackle
of charlies' deaths
traffic lights all red
the truck stops at...
the truck stop
whatever...
all connections lost
no light travels
all we have is a red sky
and some arsenic
for the acid
in bacteria
california is right there
but florida is waaaaaaaaaay
back there.
