ou can’t have that world,
not the one you want. Still.
One day, you’ll pause at the pump
to watch a pink-flame sunset
over McClarney’s Industrial Smoothing
and the scrapyard beside it

and you’ll love that sunset hard,
the way you love a hot bath
even though parts of you stay cold—
knees, tits, a bit of soft belly—

because you’ll get it by then,
that your particular deck lacks the cards
for soaking tubs or Santorini

but not all moments are jagged
in this world you have.