Watching wheels slipdown
the cracked
intersection,

lull thoughts
in an neon air,
lounging in an orange lawn chair

Spurting Up!, from where jean used to be,
flowerprint flares voicing repair and silently acknowledging
Extinction.

She watches
the wheels roll on,
smiling at kids peering through windows,
Tapping at the Glass fog, she could’ve
been a Goldfish

in another life.