An Apocalypse

Penn and I saunter Highbridge Trail
cavernous it dips below the car and sidewalk bridge
growing flower and foliage on the false canyon walls

we’d split four tabs

the conversation behavioral and cognitive psychology

do we move gears set
by the mainspring or do we wind our clockwork

a game we pretend we are ghosts

It sets in weakness upset stomach serotonin tsunami lift
on a dopamine high tide
a togetherness of the skull’s contents

an opposite of intoxication – knowing solid wood
yet accepting it fluid under foot

The fractal sky vortex clouds a taste almost like copper
the feeling that my skin is air
I sit
on the dismount steps past a bridge over the Appomattox

the sky reaches heaven the river sinks below

A quarter mile away, U.S. Route 460
buzzes from Norfolk to Frankfurt, Kentucky and back