I Am Not Alone: “Are There Other Oceans Out There?”

the President asks. And what shall he name them?
Like the one Jules Verne put at the center of the Earth,
the sky above it crackling with lightning and pterodactyls.
“I know, I know!” He goes. “We have North America, and
the other one. Let’s call it Under America!” With my ear
to the sand I hear its buried heart. Our plane has
crashed somewhere in the Gobi. Why can’t I get
this man out of my head? In another dream he wrecked
a whole train formation with his giant abdomen exposed,
heavy, rubescent animal teats blocking the tracks.

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I Am Not Alone: Writing on the Balcony

The weather’s nice but my neighbor’s electric truck
is as grey & stealthy as a sharp-edged cloud. Out
he climbs in a brown top & black cargo pants,
looking somewhat military. My sunbathing toes,
propped on a bench, wiggle to him. I could make
my neighbor worship them while he’s still in his law-
enforcement drag, have us both sigh, oh yummy.

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