As the descent began I got the distinct impression
Lake Michigan had been frozen for decades
I conducted the warmth from my metronome sternum
To our ma**ive jetting vessel billowing plumes of spent fuel
The tundra under us cracked and ruptured
To reveal palisades
Made of blades of gray, gray bristling gra**
And papulose lichen
I was so frightened
As my grip on you tightened
Your skin got slicker
I am a deserted bus depot
Though our approach suggested
An American hazy sea
Like the one I found inside
After driving you home once
Still half high
I-90 through utter desolation
I sense evil at the heart of each far flung well-lighted home
I close my eyes and see cellar stairways
Vermiculated with delicate animal bone
Musty rooms house racks of fur jackets
Spattered with plasma on a bus in Indiana
I called you and screamed
Under ceaseless patterns of weeping light