these days I
find myself trying
to remember
how to
burn


efficiently,


with an air of
almost seeming like
it was my
turn

but sleep supersedes
& when neglected
can impede

one's ability to
spark


so how did you
find me in
that deep, hollow
dark?


was it the left
second star?

was it the glow of my
smoldering cigar?

or was it the signal flare
I lit on top of that cop's car?

sometimes it takes the
smallest flames
to see

your fire is never as far
as it seems
to be


so on the second star
we'll meet;  
pass the cigar to
the beat
of all the squad cars
burning in the
street



& maybe just maybe
one day we can
live inside of our own

heat