HYPNAGOGIC BOSTON

by the little screen
where I lie with the dogs
and live with no drugs
and ponder the ponderosa
beneath this heat where
my flaming feet repeat
the steps I missed
the first last time around
a lossless ratio stations itself
on guard against the density
of imperfected memories
I send postcards abroad
to mister & missus god
asking if clarity begins at home
and hope the answer’s no
I know the script’s too cryptic
to decipher aboard this floating horse
tell the doctor when to expect
my corpse to arrive by riverboat
slowly befitting my dignity