Thursday, November 3, 2011

a fairy tale from the American heartland

on midnight walks in the flatlands,
each routine crack in the sidewalk
becomes another crack in an oracle bone
each hooded figure behind you a wolf.

when you begin to breathe heavy
you sit on the stoops of strangers
and toss sticks, watch hungrily for
the concrete squares where they fall.
you feel like a child again and

light a cigarette, twine smoke signals
around the necks of streetlamps.
your future rises with your breath.

run on home, girl with scraped knees;
don't you know that
rain on pavement glints like teeth

No comments:

Post a Comment