stormless nightscape neon lightning car-thunder and auto-hum the dark doldrums sky scrapes violence even in brightest daytime the city is its own weather system tempestuous / slum lashing / victims of architecture: humans undone slithering, slithering we, slugs of no sun
Metropolis is dust, the smoke of unfaded coffin nails, she's a sensual bonfire littered landscape, the burning lust running in my veins between safety and risk, circumcising the stage where Dylan went electric. ~ "I didn’t belong to anybody then or now.”
Swing-shifting to mercenary mode, but sinking my face value by ordering takeout religion, sharing a cab with Hepatitis C, and all those sky-high boxes and rectangles —existing in one, spending nights with her in another. ~ "Oh, lay me down to sleep upon the trickery of time." ~
I am the empty space between the highways, Abandoned strip of indirection, Subsisting on passers-by's throw-away food and emotions / Civic midsection / I am a buffer / I lead nowhere and no roads leads to me / I am the empty nest of a bird long flown to the wetlands / I am everyone's, cared for by the city, I am where the bodies are buried sometimes / I am where teenagers get high, The lake of grass from which Charon ferries you and your people to the other side, I am where tall grasses sway at midnight, Snowplowsand. Cars pass. Hourglass headlights.