"I'm in love with moonlight,
128 when its dark outside"

(Roadrunner)


Though my infantilised cat
confirms my existence
the cars don't see me--

Ganesha's prints
were all over the trunk, giant

pants in black
with a velcroed
right-turn indicator

over which
a cuff neatly folded,
red compact, splashed,

lost, speeding, between Boundary
& Bowen, the other leg muddy,
raggedy, platforms

worn at an angle of 35 degrees
from walking in circles--
just right for ditch baloney,

though between here and
the "quarter mile"
of the old Northfield industrial park

(mid-sixties, still an implied
roundedness in the signage, "moderne"
so far as it recalls Rockford,

Barnaby Jones &c.) the
fairgrounds, concrete
terrace overlooking

an oval track, everywhere
the cars had been before me
writing through the ivy.