A world’s disappearing.

Little street,

You were too narrow,

Too much in the shade already.

You had only one dog,

One lone child.

You hid your biggest mirror,

Your undressed lovers.

Someone carted them off

In an open truck.

They were still naked, travelling

On their sofa

Over a darkening plain,

Some unknown Kansas or Nebraska

With a storm brewing.

The woman opening a red umbrella

In the truck. The boy

And the dog running after them,

As if after a rooster

With its head chopped off.