capture no.1

un-
straight,

(like a)

tin-can shot
at

fleet-fragileimpossibleunheralded
happiness,

both wide-eyed barrels
staring down

wanderlusted glances
through smoke-crusted tomorrownights in

some back-bay bar where
the

backup guitarist
looks a little like you

and i’m a little
in love

with possibilities, running too
many yellows

before the needle
goes to zero.