The Geography of Detroit, 2009
requires no assembly. Requires the stubborn faith
of the abandoned child at the locked door
of the one church clutching his get out of jail
free card. Requires the illusion of covering
your tracks when no one gives a shit to start with.
I felt I was off to a good start, then ended up
with swearing and a preposition. That’s how
it works in Detroit, 6 Mile Road to 32 Mile Road
praying for the optical illusion of cliffs
to justify the free-fall.
Someone carved the history of the auto industry
on a piece of rock salt. That piece of salt
went on to melt a small slice of ice
and contribute to the construction
of the world’s largest pothole.
I was going to say, “That’s another story,”
but there is no other story.
Going to need some gas soon.
Shouldn’t be the last word
but it is.
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