On Dante


I thought about those green
beans and onions all day
after having rejected them 
for more orange chicken
on my weekend trip to the mall.

The regret eats me indelicately.

How differently...

Now I’ll blow around
like street trees: pretty, but 
roots not deep enough to reach
the good water.

I rerun the movie
of you driving through
the night alone, and all 

night long.

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