there, in the ether glow
the wondrous evening smear
of the milk of the lights
just off the side of eye
twenty five
a cluster of commerce
beige bricks torched by
sun's cholesterol glare
dusty doors and toothless
smiling patrons
there, with arms swung out
two giants are smashing hands
pawing at faces with
desperate and unholy loops
of flesh
the smell of gasoline and
crushed dreams and just hanging
in there lingers on the bloody
air like a pallet stacked high with
choking failure
it isn't so much a matter of
who will win in this ghastly
battle but a question of how
in the world did two giants get
out here
No comments:
Post a Comment