in the coast. there were coasts everywhere, canyons like cliffs. someone last week flew a
porche off a cliff from the wind road we drove in the early hours
we talk abt deaths a lot, so often sometimes we become immune to that it's better
than we, we immortal
standing in the place you were
when you exploded your head off
we feel best when we climb over it
& we're standing there overlooking
like the night city is incomprehensible
like a new city is
but I'm picturing us all there
the ones who'll never leave our sides, hands chained, fingers interlocked
the width of us a city block
the width of us a city's thickness
the width of us deathless, now
the past a murmur
the past is murdered
and we've nights
for our bodies
to web out
like kids
like the future really is ours, then
to fly off cliffs
or to hold on & spread out & go
at the good invented forever
