I’ve tried but never recovered
the earliest instinct I remember

Standing at the edge
of the playset with windswept hair

Unforgettable drift, the sky
and the lift that would carry me
                                          
                                  on. Like the suggestion of fire
                                  I see the city’s lights now stretched

                                  ahead of me     I’ve always
                                  imagined the apocalypse would come

                                  with a hell of a view

Maybe that’s true, or maybe 
I’ve mischaracterized belonging again


What I mean     I think
is that the body is a part of the mind

No what I mean to say is that 
just now I mistook the palm frond
for a specter          I mistook 
the brutalist architecture for the future

Even the songbirds make me nervous

                                                There’s no military 
                                                hasn’t been for decades 

                                                but the parade on tv fills the streets 
                                                with combat gear     with families 

                                                on blankets     with police tossing candy 
                                                over the barricades	A biplane splits the sky 

methodically          It’s a wonder anyone 
makes it back from solitude 

I reach for the plane and reach, finally, an ending.