Night Bus

I Greyhounded, but more bloodhounded
On some bloody trail
And I followed
The moon like some wax lure
Or an angler’s dangling;

Light,

my Cuban

For me, says my neighbor’s toothy smile, do it for me
Because you’re last one I’ve got he says
To his cigarette more than me.
But we were inside.
When are we not he says.
Like he could hear inside my brain.
We chose to be born.
And look, chew spit
And swallow contains genesis.

Don’t you worship?
The book of Exodus?
It speaks
Of escape,
Perhaps goose-to-home migration,
Chewing our way home,
A flight to mother
moon.

And then my neighbor
He lept from our elbow-link
And the window it swallowed him whole.
A mouth missing its jaw. He left

Me contemplating my own reflection A boy in mirror
Sunglasses.
And so the night hangs on
like how a hangnail marries the thumb
Nose to the ground
Four limbs in the mud.
And never looking up.