in spiritus ambergris
Driven southbound on the Everett Turnpike
Over the rivers, first the Souhegan, then the
This fall’s foliage is the deal.
In gauzy trees, along brown water,
The white roadway still wants sunlight:
Shimmering red, orange and gold, white gold certainty.
Within human range, within sight. Well then, fuck
the Fermi paradox. And be, be.
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