It’s out west at 3AM I’m

a bathtub against a concrete wall

flushed of oil and rainbow-slick

a crumbling ornament too foul to be inside

and He, increasingly resembling my father, says

Take the valley          Ride the river          Enter the crowd          Find your friends.

His big eyes pulsing light, feeling less of himself

But I’m out of valleys there is no water

the crowd’s a flesh

whirl strangers like friends and friends

like strangers so

I’m stuck throwing dead fish words

in the corner as a toddler

look lost mine please

hard   

Look, He says,          Stick your hand in your head

twist the oyster-grey tubes.          Feel their pulse.          Still nothing?

We’ve been through this          Twice tonight.

No matter how hard

I twist I can’t grasp it

He falls out my head

saying          You’ll be fine.          This is all temporary.

So I drank warm beer and waited for the sun to rise