betta gamma

April 12, 2018

We move fast between

Plastic pho and neon lights,

crowning ourselves in

the leaves of blue and red trees


They advertise office supplies,

discount clothes and groceries;

we are the grunge,

basking in our line of photons

that spit on capitalism.


Planes grab sunset and pull

sunstone clouds behind their fumes

and beg us, “please, fill our twilight

with the queerest quatrains,”


But we are keyed up, above it

thin aluminum strings holding us close

as we cross the street holding onto

power lines.


We fall off rhythm,

because of course we do,

Sucking lollipops woven from

purple braids and paper cups.


I was there. I held her hand.

Note this girl: she is my alpha



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