biting down on the light

did you go to the station yet?
trains are leaving, for destinations
and complications,hanging in the air
above traveler's heads.

there are windows. looking up.
rubber to bite down on. if you guess
which poem i stole this title from
i'll put it in a footnote.

all the way across ninth circuit court
of appeals, i've made my arguments.

the cat and its lives, perched all san
andreas, a waul that dismembered a wail.
it's nice to finally

stop talking. let's have a drink.
hyperactive gypsies have banded together
to bring us cards of many nationalities
all saying the same thing. peace. out.