The fragments linger:
an abandoned roller coaster
beside railroad tracks
and the voices of angry strangers
talking about molecules
and God and history;
Salt and honey,
words and flesh
in the sick light
of the emergency room.
The phone rang.
She said, your account
is nearly empty.
two hundred and eighteen dollars
is all you have left.
……..what!
Forget about bread crumbs
or finding the grail,
sometimes all that's left
are the pieces and the place.
the story is smoke in the breeze
a faint scent of something burnt.
