These Cells Are Passages

But, we like morphine.
We like the smell of DDT,
walking in flocks behind such trucks.

Brains wrapped in cellophane just last longer.

We coax you to remember, glands swollen
with exercise. A decade is a long time.
He kept hitting us until the welts

grew conscious of themselves. Don't you

remember? These lines fall apart. These lines
graze on the same oats, awaiting the same winter.
We will collapse, eventually.