Portrait w/ Rt. 4

Chris Campanioni

Strange to think of machines that way
I know the cold
Grip of confidence or how
A forgetting must
Also be erotic   How I have
Always reached for a body
Made to last
The fall   I am told
& I am still telling this
As cars part Route 4
Into soft focus   A point
Of Google Earth
I’ve already reproduced
From habit—I’m here
Again—A stretch
Of skin folding
Inward like prayers
Into a waiting palm
No one is expecting
Me for days or else
I’ve forgotten who I am
I can still
See myself there
Dangling like oranges
In grove   I am the first
Person to make
Eye contact
All night   Rain
Sliding across my cheek
To cut my copy
Like a secret
River   A choice
To remember or erase
Some people
Watch me & want to
Fall in love a second
Time   I want
To say something
Always survives this
Being what we
Call a witness