Then key in the numbers
one by one 
tell all your secrets
and
soon
there'll be none.

This is the engine stall,
out 
if gas is the 
end and I fall.

Thirty two times thirty two 
and every second 
I drop 
I drop closer 
and closer 
to you.

Hit the ground running.

All is opportunity where 
the hustler is 
importuning me 
one of us is seldom free 
to turn a trick or turn 
the other cheek
next week marks 
another scar,

Life 
so far 
advanced 
but with a backflip 
we could have danced 
with flowers in our hair.

Yesterday is somewhere 
yet somehow can't be found,
at thirty two times thirty two.
I hit the ground
running.