I have taken to seeking
her light, filtered, forsaken
or otherwise muted

just a glow

sometimes just a harsh reflection
bent across a dusty windshield
in rush hour

I grab it and try
to amplify its fleeting rays

to harness
it

because
I am selfish and
want to drink

what

I can

to taste the
burn on my tongue

that there will be deliverance
in a trick of
words or theatre

I am practicing
1981 and its

supply-side

© Tom Watters  5/20/06