exit 422 towards pottstown 

i almost always miss the exit home--

road turning vein-- turning tail light fangs
turning water--

faucet handle highway--

wash my hands in rock salt & left lanes--

kiss the steering wheel--

i drive inconsistently

sometimes inspired, i'll go 73
miles per hour in the left lane-- 

passing a mega bus & several white
vans with angelic headlights--

other times my volvo's engine 
earthquake grimaces-- 

i don't always notice myself
slowing down until all the other cars
flick their left turn signals
to rush around me 

50 miles per hour on the 
schuylkill expressway

i get possessed by radio tower ghosts
& the neon signs of Chinese restaurants 
as i leave the city

you said that you always
wanted to make a model & i said
i once made a model of the titanic

the truth is i never finished it--
i didn't seem worth finishing
a craft that will inevitably sink

but see the city in rear view 
mirrors is only a handful of
christmas lights-- 

a model that we could set 
on your kitchen table--

listen for the chirp of
car horns & sirens--

there's me slowing down
in the right lane--

the size of a bell--

independence hall still ringing 
with treason--

i always miss my turn
or i take the wrong exit--

it goes without saying that
i'm usually preoccupied thinking
about you--

specifically about how you
have the power to stop the city--

could you teach me to be a model?

helicopters drop like mosquitoes

the sidewalk-- a fault line
to fall in

when you walk away from 
my car i wait a minute or so
in silence--

a men in a beige coat walks his
white terrier--

i want to wave to him but 
i know that's not really proper
city etiquette at 9:30 at night--

i know i'll miss the turn
again--

the best part is having
to take the next exit at valley forge--

it loops me back around like
thread through the head of a needle--

i feel carousel

record-player

back on the same road as i started

i could miss the exit again &
again & again 

trapped in rear views of
a city on your coffee table--