your wet legs streaked with motor oil and neon triple x reflections
treat us with disdain to keep us tight held in the grip of your thighs
eyes like a fist to the jaw makes a sound as loud as the silence
of a hard lump the by product of a big city.
noise of the lights the brightness of the night gun metal born of
knife smiles break the empty dawn break the spirt bottles
break the back of the camel with strawberry lip gloss
the smell of impulse the smell of infected urine
the smell of unwashed pubes
mutilated lives, your face framed in the window
framed by the one night cheap hotel low point
the story of why
the story of how
you came to be
black and white stories higher than hopes of lucky children
throw money at your feet, hair tangled, grass green
girls pass through the park where you prefer to sleep
better than the shelter
the eye out of the corner, know they will never know
never need to know
this place looks different lying down, smaller
looks different from the 34th floor, smaller
angles sharp as a cloud