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April 13, 2012

An occasional car passes on

the highway above,

upholstery-covered sheet metal gleaming

inside-out beneath the moon,

sliding through moist petals of night,

pistoning rage strapped inside the

hard-edged engine block.

 

I am nestled down here

half way down this bluff

quiet with the insects

frogs and cats

in the night,

window rolled down

parked behind the dive shop.

 

 

A wheeze, rattle, and roar breaks

the night as the dive-shop compressor

comes to life, gasping to stuff

damp night air into the pressure tank.

Always the push of hard air

molecules spinning

rushing the carburetor

stiffening the hoses,

burnishing the brass.