two hours of that golden moment
that makes the world seem worth living in the
wind turbines standing watch over me,
endless sentinels like the hawks on
each wire, each pole, peering down
at the ground fervently
the little town i shout
out loud that i know you would love
the endless dead-dying fields
that stretch out beyond me and pull me
into them, the dead animals lining
the roads, their little bodies
crushed like stars, still warm
their bloodied soft,
and the rain i am always outrunning,
the desperate bad weather that
chases me all the way home
the people i am leaving behind
who i imagine do not
go home either,
freeze in place and, when i step
back in the city limits
will return to life again
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