She adorns her face with platinum
piercings, and her azure hair peeks
out of her indigo hoodie. Her
ragged, cinereous jeans reveal
scabbed and bruised knees, and
they’re tucked into jet black
biker boots strapped to her feet.

Without hesitation, she crosses the street.

Tires screech and car horns beep and drivers
scream obscenities that ornament the air
with scorn. Yet like a red belonging in folklore,
she slights their violent contempt.

She tipples from the burn of
self-destruction, and savors the
flavor of rebellion, a savor so
sweet it overwhelms her senses
and compels her to behave reckless.

And as I pass, I throw up my best fist
of anarchy. I wish I was free like this.

Though it takes a tinge of toughness
to stare into the nihilistic abyss,
it takes courage to have fun in it.


-
Aleksander Mielnikow