Ideas About Nebraska

The movie houses are now all empty,
because of the new multiplex right off the highway
where the bodies enter and leave
at almost any hour. An explanation for this
cannot be coerced easily from those passersby
kind enough to fill out the required forms.

A delegation of intelligence agents is feared.
Gypsy traders have taken over the lots,
selling musk oil and trinkets
lifted from the purses and dressers
of ghost-town women, possessors of failed estates,
fortunes wasted on the burdens of feeble DNA.

I see the same things everyday. Packs
of wild dogs trudge through the sidewalks and fields
they like to think of as their neighborhood.
They monitor my movements.
A prism hangs from a window. It shoots
a rainbow my way, which does not blind me.