Snoqualmie Falls

1.

Query if we’re alive or dead. Check the credit union
roofing and dial tone, night buoys, body’s carbon
copy. Pension signature of my body, your blood numbers station
combusts in a house; a corner house. 737 dumped
its fuel on us. Night ketosis blooms dead pilots of Everest
and left behind a thimble. Phantom index finger
taps your phone number again– I remember everything
we bought. Laid down heart attacks in glued beige,
rolled out lichen. Brushed a windshield with baleen
knuckles. Went back to the first apartment. Second.

Tear down the gas station and build another.
In higher elevations now. Turn rain into snow. White duplex yard,
radio antlers. Drop rations to us from a door
in Lufthansa. Red cardigan thalamus wilts and wires a wall.
Our lake is too thick to pass through windows, cherry-clogged
downspouts. Closed circuit shotgunning.
Lay on one side and recall the bedroom window light at
years -10, -8, -2. Wilted wire wall:
They wake me up every century. I wish
they would wake me now. Do you want to have to want to.
The house someone was supposed to move into.

Mouth-feel has the run of the park. Tents flammable
now. Lit pine embers spun to maduro ground.
I wish the century was me and mine and I.
Who’s to say someone three centuries ago isn’t the best for you.
Or, you to someone three centuries from now.
I wished the dormitory was thick like fat in time.
When the flame hits we are [g]one. I wish the fat
would drip solid bodies of me and mine and I downriver.

2.

Will you haunt a place no one can find
on a continent tectonics away–
A continent drifted under, its rooms boarded
up, language mummified inside tongue. Poison
its ice cream bar in 1952, fires melted
Tannhauser candy. Seismics blued and seeping
to the end of a hemisphere, chambers boarded up
and filled with wet copper of a World’s Fair.

Haunt the glass compartment of wild doe
and ferry lights. Chambered heart of
atom bomb, rigging strewn out across a parking lot.
Swim out to the jail. Bread floats in salt water, our even
blemishes. Our knockout game, our tin snips; 9 volt
battery on a tongue.

I circled the porch post to avoid bullets?
The police in the garage. When you came around
you said to use the same caliber as NATO. Showed me
your vintage star core. Potassium Iodide tablets.
Sewed the red lozenge buttons
on your jacket and said to swallow them
like when we were new.

3.

The dream last night
while the Chinese bombed Tacoma
was of a river dam. Knocked me out of bed, a distant
drunk driver dead on Marine View Drive. The emergency
lights pulmonary across Commencement Bay. You asked
if I wished to be a different form of animal. Bed sheets
identified a state park on I-90 with a new dam
while you worked the espresso stand. Went
to its bleachers and looked down.

I would sleep for one hour, visit the dam, then come to
on the floor. My essentials were there. I felt
the body of water against the ledge, the sneakers
floating. Or, Lake Kachess where I never swam,
no crude oil to fill it,
nor boat rentals, nor hearing
any decibels from extremities.

4.

There is a steak house in Mandan
the next town over. We ate ourselves there. In the steak
I looked across sternum to find our air marshal.
The greenest eyes on a plate were fire damage, the easiest
eyes to set on fire. Do you feel so badly about crashing,
the cut and tear of hydraulics through palms of syntax.

I print my boarding passes and print again.
Everyone is from Missoula, they say.
Are you from ND? Everyone I meet is from Missoula.
You have to evaluate your employees.
Did they come from Salt Lake?
Everyone comes from Missoula.
You have to rate your employees.
You have to let them know who is in charge.
I’d fire that one. Ripped up the book I wrote right there.
The varnished headboard, the dream last night, the
hole in the floor. Dust in each crease, arm down,
head down, left,
right.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *