They Say It’s a Cult Classic

thirty-eight degrees & windy
mercury vapor lamps with
this sound of ticking
clocks slowed 1,000 times
over fields of snipers
chasing moose & squirrel
through court histories
our volumes placed together
waiting in white tile rooms
at the Faye Wray scene
my expectations in the lobby
led to new graffiti
what we do with first signs
what we do with last ones