Draft #4: that's what i meant.

July Never Seemed So Strange

The doors whump shut
her car a polished spoon dipping
the dust bowl now
like part of a fallen constellation

Nothing new here
burned tire lizards skid and lie
Americana all decay and rusted
purple cab, no-gut canopy
a reflection that shudders the windshield

So shiny new at midday
she is the center of all light
she thinks, I should eat off the edge of a stick,
one hand trailing cloud and stream by the still road
something else I can’t come close to

This desert belongs to someone
else why do farmers at night till fins
from the earth’s backbone
their cloud-carried visions burning
like ancient fires to a fork of ash

Out here only hills are monuments
the head of a swollen traveler beside a sleeping elephant
all stone flank and furred shoulders

Cake-eyed she dreams her city gone
the ground runs up beside her
overflowing its banks like rivers of grimy fish
thinks, that bird would take my eye
but I would take his wings

Nor is this the place she is sure of
where is grace
the branch she mistook for a bird
would be lovelier as a bird