There was a mob of people here
All lined up a few bricks prior to the street light frozen on green
We were all imminent to the sound of a rusty metal bar snapping free of its locks
Our eyes remained open, no one blinked.
There were hard ***** of crusted orange paint illuminating the balding of the center caved as an aging man's youth did,
A slight shine for remembrance,
Its lullaby announcing delivery -
Its old tethered tires barely holding on
Its driver as still as a stoop with patience like a hawk,
Patient and expectant of the whole lot of worth never used to
Fund towards the Lime Green Stinge animalisticly chomping down on a hamburger.
It's an addiction;
An addict who creeps by the window huffing the aroma of freshly cut grass
As do I near a few pounds of regular gasoline but this one,
This is different.
It's bittersweet, spicy, nose wiggling, pocket itching, finger twitching, feet moving, toes curling, heart racing, such an extravagant smell -
There couldn't possibly be any better arousal than this.