In a chromium-colored blossom
A son was rising from the father's
Fist; he was yawning while he reached
Under his pillow for his gun.

Applause is burning in the night's
Heat like fire on the skin.
Bodyguards shooting at
Paparazzi.

The streets were writing a mixture
Of dreams and mania in the lines
Of history; kids stole the words
Before publication.

The language of the heart glows
In a grandfather's mood on a
Bridge between moon and sun;
Consisting of heat and cold.