Soft amber light pours in through accordion pleats,
draping over the dust and debris.
I crack the window to release
the hot stale air from its heavy sealed cage.
My sweet breeze whips the shades
against the cedar window frame.
The fresh air does not cool me down.
The incessant noise infuriates me.
I am hot. I am sticky. I am insomniac.
I burn
harsh and bright.
I must kill
the sodium streetlights, stab their
bulbs and make them hemorrhage
hot gas the way that I spew out hot air
and pump rage from my vocal cords.
But the streetlights never flicker.
Street Address
City, State, Zip
Phone Number
Your Custom Text Here