Tag: Sad Indianapolis

Sad Indianapolis I go to the movie theatre to look at the rows of exit lights just to feel like I’m landing in my life. I tried to pull the world back from the explosion; but it is snowing; the sky looks like falling ash. Each morning I stitch together a moment, say, the muted light around a bowl of peaches, but soon the junior senator in me so timidly casts his vote for desire I can barely pour the milk. Sad Indianapolis, famous only for a race that comes once a year, the noise so loud it evacuates the head briefly and orderly like a fire drill; then it all returns: worries, regrets, Yvonne, the hilltop, endless strip- mall parking lots where I would sit as a teenager, the tongue of the world on my battery, and feel a huge, yet exact emptiness, as if someone were unfolding thousands [...]