UBI AMOR IBI OCULUS EST
“No one is on your side. What will you do?”—Fleur Adcock
Flumes of the late night
In the tall desert wrong
Even after rain. The white
Asphalt gleams. The car radio
Insists upon race anger
Keen as weather and warfare
But with a heaven to get to,
A shock of empty meadow.
The essential of myself is out there
Walking, aimlessly. Meanwhile,
I drive slowly, keeping the spectral
Gypsy flumes fixed in the mirrors.
A scroll of high sound, suddenly,
Like outrage out of nowhere,
Like God in the beginning, from nowhere,
Breaks into the car. I can see
The mirrors blackened and the radio empty.