Two Tone

constel-fire lation-sky. a toyota tercel scuries like a pale iguana past desert mile marker 368 headed south. pulling over hearing the welcome crush of warm gravel. we lie on the hood and look up at the night sky. you tell me there are powdered sea urchens crushed into the paint but we cant see them. you say all the factories do it that way. gala-contact leo-lens thinly focused sleep knit tones. so precise the hands of the orchard astronomers lurring are eyelids to close. the desert wind is dry and cold little is goverened or reflected. feeling the warmth of the hot engine through the pale blue oxidized car hood. light factory blue fades into the darkness tanglebly felt through the nights two-tone osmosis.