I was driving by myself, after
midnight hours, an empty road, summer
mist in a chill, windows open
pulled off by the tracks near
the meadows, the warehouse fenced and
the gate someone left ajar
the field was black, light pooling into
ghostly, viridescent patches
in the dirt

You could see off of the flood
lights; the walls of the factory
water dripped from brick, patched
between metal and cement, the pieces
floated like a puzzle my eyes
couldn't focus, in the outskirts
of the glow around them,
an opening crack in the asphalt

I wished
into the scene a stir
in the twenty yards of
trees between the warehouse
and the next industrial park
an animal or someone wayward,
a sprout rising in soil
but the pall continued
staring at the same sight

Some spirit here is living?
Tell me how
for you to survive

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