Go West

Go West I said.
Something elevates there
(picking up and out of a scorched flat place).

I packed and winnowed
and Kansas blew back.  The currency of currents aired on the sides of a dusty and blued Scion that once was his, only a symbol of me.  False, mechanical machine sculpted in a factory with words like Love, and Forever, and no Other.

Once I borrowed your shirt.  We believed it fit, and then it became mine, like you.  Now the wind of Kansas chills the clothes that are mine alone in this box on wheels.

Tiny atoms, remnants of exponential moments fill this car as it moves West.  Your words are exhaust that exhausted and drove me.  I almost picked up the hose to drown.

Were it not for peaks of snow, the enemy, and a promise of flesh feared as a boy, a queer boy, the air would not pass and not be consumed.