Jupiter

Slowed down,
stopped outside Prada Marfa.
An abandoned petrol station,
or an art world sphinx or oracle.
Glass, and beyond, shoes and bags.
Like a weapon deposit slowly reflects your shape as a tiny hole,
black against the desert-scape,
like a planet calling.

Jupiter call her
into the ether.
Let her come.

I should relate somehow.
I am an «abandoned project».
But also a creature
crisp and clear like the desert,
indistinguishable from clarity.
Heavenly and high.
The clouds’ appendage.
I could open my mouth
and ...