The unmentionable odour of death
                     Offends the September night.
                                  W. H. Auden

let me think how i met you first
when the sky of september burst
and was raining smegma and flesh
with part of me watching fall
out of the blinding blue
parts of what had been you
while the rest kept inching ahead
along the i-94
with the traffic like clotted blood
congealed in the tarmac veins
as i drove to the kmart store
in eau claire for a stale blt
and the flag to affix on the hood
which i never imagined I would

the day i counted you mine
unshaped by the hesitant time
the body that ceased to be you
hold the bacon the bun will do
you are locked into a cellphone voice
on the turnpike to paradise
we must love one another or die
which we would if given a choice
the departed take leave and let
the living have their mindless chance
still i dream of your lovely leg
to the rest unattached at once
on its way to the distant sea
torn apart at the wtc

when i die and become a car
as we seem to be destined each
i will honk you up from afar
on the tall verazzano bridge
i will purr and gratefully slide
to your gleaming enameled side
when i'm totally truly gone
call me buick and take me down
to that ground zero the hole
where we get resurrected all
from that poisonous concrete lace
by the jealous what's-his-face
from that twisted steel from the dust
and he better
or else
he must

9-11-2006