the autos tumbling into the roads’ void
the animals lining country roads
their branches covered with hospitable qualities
and with birds shaped like leaves on their heads
you’re walking but it’s another who’s walking in your footsteps
distilling her spite across the fragments of memory and arithmetic
wrapped in a robe the racket of capitals almost muffled
the town that’s boiling and dense with proud calls and lights
bubbles over its eyelids’ saucepan
its tears flow in streams of low populations
across the sterile plain toward the flesh and the polished lava
of shadowy mountains the apocalyptic temptations
lost in the geography of a remembrance and a dark rose
I’m prowling through narrow streets around you
even as you’re also prowling through other larger streets
around something else