that was now this is

by Kristin M. Hatch, Ann Arbor

our love, purchased half-off rack

at the second hand store,

always a gamble

then you played another

me to sleep:

there were churches

milkglass windows enough

to make clear faith from stale pastries

to clutch the rearview by the arm and tug

we drove a timemachine

into earthshatter

travel, they say, can show

and did, a bit of a dead squirrel still trembles

behind the gas station alleyway hey-

man-you-got-a-dollar of your touch

come, ninety-four's another pirate walk

we can bribe them for leftovers, maybe a third try.

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