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The Clock


We sit by the window
waiting for wine and watch
a car burn on Boundary Street,
a stopped clock above
the bar: half-past three
forever, and then it's now.
I remember a shady spot
north of here on I-5
called Crow's Landing
as five of them settle
on the line above the fire.
An Impala, I think,
or the newer Malibu.
They hop in the heat
waiting for the flames
to settle into smolder.
There's something to pick at
or they wouldn't be here.
And the INS guys in their
black Suburban. Just waiting.
Here at last, a gentle Lambrusco.
Half-past three with a view
of Boundary Street. Somewhere
behind us, Mexico. Eight
crows now, the fire nearly out.


James Harms

Comet Scar
Carnegie Mellon University Press


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