as if through streets of solid gold
a pinstripe pattern plays on the wall
the trees that line the streets
echo down the way, my eyes
are pinned to the concrete wall,
the moon resting on its silky perch
and everything feels to melt
in this heat- the very free way each car
can pass, the boom boom boom
of a solid speaker, hunting through
the streets one at a time,
ending lives, capping moments off.
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