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LAYTON ISAACS

Reverse Birth: I-44 West to OKC

The highway bows into a uterus of concrete and light.
As I pass through its curves and into city,
I'm coming home.

I look to the side of the highway.
Metal ladders stretch to the sky.
Their red lights signal
another — outpost — on — planet — earth.

I spin the radio dial
and ring myself like a play phone,
Is there anybody out there?
Will I find what I'm looking for?

The red dots blink in sleepy majesty
and after tears of remembering
I understand this:
You must look for the radio towers in the darkness.




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