DRIVE TIME, IN YOU, AND TRANCE MANUAL
in you is the arroyo in you is the bank of
dawn above the pool one motion overhead
at one time, always thinking of the guard-lines
making, sand come up to meet us thinking,
knelt down by my brother, think of attitudes,
think – this line this lap this lay this
tabletop this mesa, here for me.
a motion to articulate, a spread via the up-line
to the monuments beside which our people lay
in dirt. I lay a down-line here beside you, prayed out,
striking for the measures of water, laid out
in our laps, the way – this way points out to opal.
the forgotten serotonin, the inhibited removal,
someone by me laying out a place for me
in bed forms, this obstruction this ingratitude
think – the land the lay the linoleum,
streaming down the aisle to me.
flat laid is the vista of you crying out
above my hands at rest, effusive
over plains of sudden closeness.