You keep your history guarded to
Hermetically sealed, bulletproofed. You
Sing star spangled when the house lights go
Down & the pyrotechnics begin. Your fists
Are clenched to the south, holding on tight
To the air in your pockets,
trying not to ex-
Plode. You look north at night & can’t put
Your New American finger on the lode star
But trust you are going the right direction.
You travel west toward the Comstock, jack-
Pots, the salt flats of land speed records &
Nuclear testing sites where inside the blast
Radii no living thing will grow for a million
Years & the desert blown to glass, leaving
You a million miles w/out any place to hide.