Billy film noir

erudite blackeyed noir, clinging
hillsides- we are not burrowing beneath
a dazzling seamy city-

we are in a small town
of peeling diners and fire
hazards, of sandstorms(sometimes)that come
from fallow fields,
but all of that,

outlaying,

we are nowhere secret-
we are nowhere barbarous-
without the jeweled acumen plucked like apples
from the garland troposphere-

we are in a palace
devoid of coal mines. you do not
know who I am but once I stood
on stone stairsteps behind you,
opening my eyes like myopic comets,
seeing oceans for the first century-

there is no mystery underneath
the shadows in this town-
they are only shadows and I
small jezebel am hiding here turning
the quarter hour until a blackandwhite movie
comes on with cloth biplanes

and dangerous
wisdom.

the only handprint you ever found was the one last left over the sandy fields, your brown shirt pressed flapped against your broad body by the finetuned wind, and purely white of course,
exposed(camera
angle)

shadows