Just last week I spent a day in Walled Lake, a small suburb outside of Detroit. Suburban Detroit has always seemed so sterile to me; a huge maze of Applebee’s, strip malls and gas stations. Populations are growing so fast that high schools are a mile away from each other and neighborhoods with names like Whispering Trails, Maple Village and Rambling Brook are wedged together like Tetris blocks. How the fuck does anyone carve an identity out of this?

Sarah was there once. Now she is shuffled into an endless deck of senses.

The Tap Tap of Gunmetal Allusion

Buildings trying to inhale
my sentiment

Of Vanderbilt and cloaked subservience
A predictable thief
The choking naivete
that led you from the south
to frosted tennis bubbles

And I am unable to say Novi
without recalling glass bottle litanies, highways and a 4th grade child
dressed in stripes