The Ancients 2

Cigarette butt circles chrome sink drain
and catches against the manhole cover
chrome plug.

Tinnitus shaped curl
aerator screamed
hush.

Glance backward
to see
the dune peak alive with beads.

Fuffs of sand scrolling backward
as the lake large as an ocean
sings to a freshwater jam band.

The gales
the chorus. Trees misshapen,
rooted as near as
the inland sea would allow.
Eyes to the medicine cab'

mirror for a sun.  Hairs held in place
by grains of sand.
 

           
          Do you not shower?
          Do you not wash?



       I've seen no ocean like that before.