Bride on a Boxcar

It’s been awhile since I’ve seen the stars
There they were – twinkling over the anti-Hilary Clinton billboard in central PA and I wondered if the hill people appreciated them if teenagers were fucking under them and what was it about my city that shielded the cosmos: smog or cynicism?
Or if they really weren’t there and the stars only choose to hover the starry-eyed and the starlight was a privilege extended to those who believe in other worlds, over worlds, above worlds, looking down on this world, this catastrophe.
No one notices because no one notices anything outside of their mirrors endangering the macros while they trudge through the trash heap of self delusion
I spent the summer in the swamps
I know the recycling and the prayers aren’t enough to offset the damage I’ve done but I’m sorry
Do you know I’m sorry?
I know I’m sorry I know self pity is sorry when planes are more than birds and bombs are more than rain
But I still can’t stop thinking about me and you

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