I’m trying not to hold too tightly 

to these seventy-four miles between 

Superior and Bayfield Wisconsin 

beside my ninety-two-year-old mother . . .

Bug bites on bare bum . . .

How stupid I am

To yearn for you . . .

six lips flap, bombastic hip hop 

beats itself, bottles clink glasses 

and glasses smash the hipsters—

it’s eardrum gymnastics! . . .