these slow, slow bites
of fast, fast food
may be the end of my patronage
for anything good
another meal alone
another blackened night
moths on the bulbs
eating at the light
i still have the coals burning
the melodies and the lines
looping like the coasters
in the fair rides of my mind
and there was something here
something i came back to find
in this turned over card catalog
this puzzling palindrome of mine
i almost believed you
when you said i'd be alright
but baby these wings
have forgotten the patterns of flight
