2/30

Leaf

In a different Nebraska, in a universe

of infinite Nebraskas, you learned to love

the taste of ashes. A finger fell there

on a plain-mouthed verse that called you,

maybe a season to die, and a season also

to be born. But not here. Even the coin

toss is out to get you. A certain remnant

of your future is as follows: 1. A fourth-hand

muscle car that turns over once a week.

2. God's gift of a good name

to lazy pressboxers. Less and less

ways to ignore it. No tin roof

holiness assembly, no Sunday 

dressup. The opiate receivers

are blocked. Christ is just another man

you can't find downfield. Scramble

in our Nebraska. Let's go

to the videotape. You won't ever fuck up

bad enough to fail

like you used to.