Hazard Lights

The poet died on January 12th the age of moonlight.
Humans are outnumbered by shadows at least two-to-one
on this planet. Substanceless siblings do strange, slow waltzes
around us, day and night.

Disturbing children gather above to feed waiters
as they leave that tall building. They turn into swans
until their next shift, turning circles
on public water, anxiously.

The Big Bang theory is about to be disproven
in favor of the science of the spilled glass,
spilled everything. You know the truth

when you fall in love and all your words
bleed out. A chain-reaction, ungloved accidents
start. Only the autumn colors can stop this

with their perfect brakes shaped like trees.