On a towel eating Lays
at the shore of Lake Erie’s
ocean-simulation but I just want
to piss in sand
singing memories of Los Angeles.

Sorry, the masses I abandoned.
What song of salt on tongue.
What rustic swampland.

Nothing
about the tide I claim
to understand. Water’s not even
clear. Only unexplainable shifts

of the heart coming
and coming at me relentlessly
like I never settled when it mattered.

Now I prefer deepwoods drugs.
Life’s a slow death
and I just need to get to the end.
           (go)

What else do you want / what else
do you want / what else do you want? To do?

go

           go

go

           go

                    go

(originally published in Spotlong Review, Winter 2023)