because love and hate

even here in the clean, cold light of early april,

in the solemn emptiness between
berkshire and speedsville, between  somewhere and
somewhere else, nowhere and

nowhere, the shit of civilization

growing up through the weeds and dirt, the

cigarette butts, styrofoam cups, fast food wrappers,

the wounded and the dying
 

the trees and the hills
 

crisp blue sky
 

no sound of traffic or of industry, but two

empty beer cans and a shattered bottle
on the side of a rutted dirt road
 

taste of rust when I
turn to kiss you
 

birds
screaming