The End

Bus comes around a rounded mountain.

Leaves fading in the fading sun. Exit 78.

I said the typewriter.

Did you do the dishes. Did you make the bed.

Nonintersecting lines as a condition of safety.

I write in the margin what about the colonies.

In light of progressive industrialization.

You stop paying attention and the street numbers get higher.

Would you call it a spiritual instrument.

Would you consider this an amplification.

Talked with a stranger about the best way to cook it.

A blood clot makes it hard to climb the stairs.

It gets cold at night and colder in morning.

There is a song playing but only you can hear it.

Four days of paintings by the staircase.

Made a mistake and let fronds drag on the pavement.

I could tell it was morning by the artificial harp.

Then Ian makes a joke in a poem.

How is taste a precondition.

How to keep the vegetables from going bad.

I got my period in the specialist’s office.

Long white fluorescent lights slide by overhead.

The wall was carpeted in a panel behind the tap.

A quick rainstorm followed by an hour in air conditioning.

It was an afternoon kind of light at the wrong time of day.

He said that’s not what that essay is about.

Did they believe in the death of the lyric.

When we saw the past in color photographs.

I disliked the woman on the bus.

Ratatouille. Plums in a sieve.

I realize I also read over your shoulder.

Distance from your body to the taillights ahead.

You don’t need to understand the process.

When you get to the end you reverse and push off.

Front page image via Justin Leonard.

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MC Hyland

About the Author

MC Hyland is the author of Neveragainland (Lowbrow Press) and several chapbooks including TOOTHLESS ALTAR (Shirt Pocket Press), Every Night In Magic City (H_NGM_N), and Residential, As In (Blue Hour Press). She runs DoubleCross Press with Jeff Peterson, and is a PhD student at NYU, where she currently studies walking, typewriters, poetics, and Romanticism.
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