There are gross , sweaty men shouting vulgarities on the corner. You know how poor impulse control leads to swearing and fleeing the scene, fever dreams and a drive toward murder. Stand up strong with upraised fists. Stand up. But I am not so strong. I don’t want to be seen here.
A life in danger, storming, cursing. What is not being said? Keep the hour open. Keep the light on. What do you want me to say? I don’t know why I am here.
There are gunshots on the corner, rapid fire and fifty. Fragile small things are exploding around me and I cannot sleep at night. Doors open and doors close on human heartache. An absolute photograph of heavy dark and spinning stars.
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