She moans and he writhes
and they shiver on the ground,
Minds reeling through 911 tapes and sirens blaring
and blue-red lights glaring, and mothers screaming
and lovers leaping and parents weeping and
children seething.
Their minds are at war,
every tremor a quake,
every shudder a shake;
They start molting like snakes,
shedding pieces and flakes
of themselves, their identity
their strength and serenity;
become anonymity, silently, frighteningly,
Til nothing is left
but raw red meat
that bleeds straight through the streets.
It's oozing and thawing,
more alive than a drawing,
But much too alive, just wanting to hide,
and melt into nothing under the hot sun,
and be laid to rest with the shot of a gun.