one thousand lives in passing

Enough with the crosses
She's barely old enough to
drive, skip, take the exit ramp
before street lights, broken curbs,
parked cars, meter maids, bike chains,
trolley tracks, flat tires, toll booths,
cracked roads, painted lines,
the story of the wide wide closed
up world comes calling taking
the babies and sinners for a
walk to the peak of jutting rocks
falling rolling rocks pyramid mankind
or the blue faced flowers that coat our graves
comes wandering wondering left behind,

what's this all of a sudden
what's changing so quickly
what's gotten into her head and why do
we throw our trash up into the sky?

to burn

She's got an answer but it's on
the median strip, it's unpopular,
it's all over the pavement
curl--it's all bloody and fucked up
and she's too young to tell.