Giddy with self-light
a mountain
recedes, inheres.
I can’t tell branches
from outdated antennae
in this noon blitz.
Let’s paw together
at the imminence, red silo
cup tumbleweeds
rattling by on their soiled white
rims. The houses here
have garages and the garages
have… portholes, I guess.
Single circular windows
between the roof’s vee. It’s easy
to imagine ancient
animals, heads together, peering out
from within. I’m talking
ark ancient. Porthole obscured
by their musk. Love’s
most beautiful ungulates
waiting out collapse.