Wait can we go back to the blue
Ann asks can we show them the blue
so we tromp back
to the bridge
and John
disappears into the smallest barn,
the cat motel, to
on-switch the rectangle lights
a few second
flash – electric blue picture frame
gift for all the
cars to come
and we stand
back, bathed in neon
of some more drunk
night
far from this
valley
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