Blare

I limp up Bergen Street like I'm made
of balsa. The taco shop is blazing. I have
full bloom status. I make good sunshine.
I'm not about harm anymore. Thick
as myself, that armload is a menthol
blow. Breezy reductions, past failures,
the lure of the night in most situations.
My goal is morning. This blare is making
me change shape. Want more?