ignition

poems live

desperate lives so

fleetingly beautiful that you

hope it’s all a lie.

a deception.

a three card Monte.

poems are streetwalkers,

warm tequila,

shills, depression,

sedation, mania,

exhilaration, blood oaths,

rim-shots,

shoplifters and

thieves. they are liars,

but no more dishonest

than you.

they sleep homeless on sidewalks,

shivering, shivering in their

desperate bid for

revelation.

they are the thin

white lines

that your high-beams

suck from the desert darkness ahead

at eighty-five miles an hour.

they are the word

made ink

and paper.

they are the

incandescent 

moment 

of ignition.

...