Love Song to My Neighborhoods

Sometimes I stroll through forests
just sprayed for the gypsy moths. I throw a rock
into the bushes to distract the hunters. Deer
me. I am writing to my hazards.
Open gutter to the lake, green oil, paint dumped-
I swam there, cut my foot on a beer bottle
and kept paddling
to years by the power plant, my bed
placed so I could see the voltage through my window,
an evening sparked from metal towers. I was pulsing
beneath an uncharged moon. Still am.
Let me introduce you to the nuclear
sub base, the girl next door. At night, missiles leave
their home on trains, protesters appear on tracks
a day too late. Afternoons, I buzz to the hum
of the generator. I know your lecture in my radioactive
heart:
sing organic, vegetarian bliss. But I can afford
to live here. I am a poor it.
Open my wallet and find. . . Moths?
Coins radiating? A small hazmat team? Let’s dream
big together. Turn off the lights. Watch my lungs glow.
I know you’d pay to see them.