arms of trees reside inside

i am back in provincetown again. a giant moon hangs at the end
of a long road. (Commercial Street, East End).
previously, i entered the halls of voodoo decorations.
crystal balls on wire rings. a black man in a turban
passes, caressing my ass.
Jeff comes up. i have left him.
i am always leaving him.
he comes up to me on the street and beats me.

( Stones tape shaped like a stealth bomber).

i pick up a harmonica in the shape of a clutch.
i learn the ins and outs of it.
how to play it as i am walking.

the subterranean rock show sucks.
girls like flappers run up the red enamel winding stairs
to be onstage. i leave.

L.is there. in his bed made of logs and tarps and crystals.
he is thrilled to see me,
which is beyond surprising.
i try on his glasses. heavy sides made of black leather.
arms of trees reside inside.
as well as blindness.