Living with Humans
By Jesse Nathan
For Salmon, a dull pink means
leave that for now. A black Volvo turning elsewhere,
a cold sharp in your pocket. The night is a car
with tinted windows, pregnant with uncooked
worry. If the cars had people in them. Would they
still drive as if they didn't care?
wondering about the quiet beneath the lids
of these tupperware houses. Rolling the idea around
in your head, it begins to make sense: A dull pink.
A black Volvo. Things raw becoming settled destiny.
Things turning away in the night, going their own way.
This convenience store:
don't fade at gas stations. It's seedy at this one, the air
stinks a heavy stale. Everyone has been here,
groping for footing on this curb, this sidewalk,
this historic corner. The night
& this neighborhood
are more labyrinthine than I ever expected. It's darker
than I ever thought it would be.