The men are ready –

Lined at the roadside 
with flowers in plastic 
buckets, flowers trapped 
in glass orbs.
Permission to
fantasize to
completion?
Captain?
My superpower 
is esoteric 
bullshit – or
love, our
elbows winking
into one another –

baby, 
I’ve still got it. 
If I wasn’t meant 
for pleasure, why 
this body. 
Angel, please
come down
from your 
branch and lift me
tonight – I’ve 
skewed terrestrial 
on the celestial 
spectrum.

Stellium

I dream of 
a glittering pair
of pincers 
above a long 
Sonoran road. 
They wave to me, 
the stars 
of their composition
positively booming 
with light– 
God’s little
white noise
machine.
I crawl 

up the ladder 
of the sky and
into your arms.