The Right Way to Paradise

a song

the gray of the skyline

the smoke stacks in the night

the orange Woodward street lights keep me still

my drive home down Russell

befriends me; the bustle

of the 94 hustle that always kills

to drink from the River

came make a boy shiver—

the moon in a sliver rises high

on M-10, it's gorgeous

the bridges are for us—

the highways are porous at night

that old Detroit fire

the light-up desire

that douses the pyre for the dead

the right way to paradise

is right before our eyes

the winter supplies us with beds

to sleep

to dream

the smell of the Roseville Plant

the steam from the Griswald vents

so roughly circumvents the road

when i moved from Adrian

my car wheels were born again—

baptized in oil and cologne

when we look in hindsight

we'll think of the break lights

born right outside of where we live

kids play in the road

the Toyota lights glow—

but no one who knows will forgive

that old Detroit fire

the light-up desire

that douses the pyre for the dead

the right way to paradise

is right before our eyes

the winter supplies us with beds

to sleep

to dream

the milk from I-75

keeps all of us alive

the night is desire left to breathe

the black pothole coverings

is not a dark bloodening;

is all for a glowing for the free