The boxcar meets the curve
like a lover upon his bipolar mistress—
a brief spooning of two heats,
narrated by the warring cold of the universe,
and a dearth of Beethoven.
White is the color of utopia,
of London clockworks against
a backdrop of old dames and mustached Texans
in plaid, a tangerine likeness
taken from the sun—a red rooster
to this pallid Earth.
A child resorts to claws
with the Cubist desert carvings on the wall—
he will grow to pockmark space,
in its nuclear umbrage,
like a snake molting from his suit until nude,
eyes are the engines beneath.