mhall46184@aol.com
A Tweeker Riding a Bicycle in a Thunderstorm on the Fourth of July
At dawn
thunder rises and lightning falls
A black spot in middle of a road
Closer and closer – a wobbling black spot
A bicyclist unaware of the gods
Slow-pedaling through a nowhere of despair
A corpse, fragments of skin still on its bones
It turns and grins, a crewman on that ship
And in its veins that rotting albatross
At dawn
grimacing through rotting-teeth breath
A wereling wobbling in existential death
No comments:
Post a Comment