It’s here
It’s next the spiral wall
full of graffiti now
by the acacia
I write.
What for
the real story
if the words
are never true?
Whatever,
I cannot lie
I am in pain
Moonshine in my head
I pick up the stars
that ramble on in my pocket
I see over my shoulder
the shadows
in the car mirror
three shadows
of your being
both presence and threat.