One day – you will fall into the ocean,
and it doesn’t really matter
because the universe is stretching
us all thin. The earth a flat
penny – just copper when you zoom
out far. An amalgam. But here –
bone dry has grimmer connotations.
Grass is dandruff we water.
The heat collects scalps
and they jingle in their hardness.
Why do we cling to dead flesh? Pitch
yourselves home to salt water
and breathe like we once did.
With shrinking ponds, we hydrate
ourselves in starlight. We’re smashing
streetlamps to make it blacker,
to drink ourselves fuller.
Can we survive
on ghosts? I’ve never walked
the western coastline.
They say only dreamers made it all
the way there. Where do nightmares live?
I see them in ground hungry for
life. In spade heads stacked high
on brittle earth. You can’t plant
compass roses – not even
dreams grow here anymore.
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