winter cold, 1977

codeine thickens the fog
the city wears a skin of rain
menthol nicotine eats holes in the tissue
what I call theology
occupies love's normal spaces
emotional politics hides words
in places soon to be explored
all my old friends live on mars
having lost these maps

I am not sad, nor keen to quit
the definitions multiply
the borders
beyond the possible interface
poems splice the weeks together
photographs echo the car wrecks
it comes to me: desire is magic
—white or black

shadows of the winds trace the topography
like fingers across her flesh, an ordinary
bittersweet design the day sees its image
in a broken mirror

is there someone else in here
with me?

I smoked Benson and Hedges menthol cigarettes for maybe twenty some odd years. This piece also mentions the Keye Luke sequence (a series of poems using the Chinese-American actor Keye Luke as a metaphorical device). There is the concern for cartography, map making. Also the sense of loss is presented as an average understanding. I have long felt that the price of consciousness is the need to mourn.