. . . eyes stained with clouds . . .
-Joseph Brodsky, “Törnfallet”
And smeared with the smoke of tailpipes
are the legs
all the way through
these brand new jeans.
The chest took a bullet from the expanse
and left it blue
to prove that space
And distance is not subject to time
Get used to it as eyes drift from books
and up to the sky
Anything can change
even if only
for a trial run.