light
falls
into our palms
and slips
through the cracks.
we curl our fingers
around
paper-palmed cigarettes.
in the middle of the open road,
we look up to the naked moon in worship.
every act
of destruction
makes us feel like
a God.
we pray
to ourselves
for the ability to dream.
there’s a crater on the side of the road.
there’s a bridge at the end of the sky.
hold my hand.
let’s walk.