I was certain these were not the cities themselves,
not the ghosts of cities.
These were not beyond the run-of-the-mill.
They were bodies
their oil and currency
the center of
stealing seventeen minutes
for polite orgies
& local news.
We could imagine illustrious cities their bronze networks ascribing
& age gaps.
The consolations of pornography
dried all over my face so whatever they could do for me
I’d opened up for it, looked straight into it
It was admittedly
an hour’s drive
looking away from one’s fingers
I’d take it that way
every killer treatise
lost in circulation (again).