Jah in a Volkswagen Bus

For Amy Dolinger

Laying in the middle of a road that leads
to a lake that leads to the Chesapeake Bay
that leads to the waves of the Atlantic Ocean,

the vastness of distance seems thin.

Thin like the air in an auto shop’s paint bay.
The lack of oxygen chokes like saltwater.

In Jamaica, a dog gets run over, the machete
still swings, and the ports have cruise lines
finding new, unprepared homes to wreck.

In Denver, the cats keep coming.
Coming and going, as they please, day and night.

Crashing is the echoes of mountain thunder.