1. Ronson's, get some

the blank hard stare meets the trash fire in a bashed rusting whitepaint peeling oil drum down near the river
the old bridge abutment gnarled in dead sumac and frosted ice

this one kid Lucian who'd said fuck class again so early in the year
set it with book matches grabbed in a handful
from the convenience mart up the hill

an old man owns that store
and it seems to Lucian that that
old man lets him steal beer and sundries
and sunlight and time by the magazines

no adequate winter coat for this kid, just a drab beige bubble parka
bleeding white nylon fluff at its hem
and seams
and it too came from a dumpster

as the kid himself came from a load
blown that should've fallen
into a rubber prophylactic
to be crushed and left
upon the dirt track riverside

like the child now 13, oldest in his grade,
has been left
to his own devices
but no: the child lived, had to wait to be birthed

before receiving his gift of abandonment
yes, the gift of it
finally? when all is occluded
and future seems lost

thinking you're living
your whole life
at the end of the road
isn't such a bad concept
or deal

esp. to this kid who burns like trashfire and sets them
while the frozen river creaks and strains.
and the blue wind howls up from the South,
like a song of eternal night