Downcast Eyes

I have no time

For downcast eyes

Which wait

For the change

Of the

Red traffic light

 

As the downcast

Eyes of former friends

Have

Neither the heart

Nor the mind

As I pass by

 

That is the price

 

I called a fellow arsonist to douse the dry fence, instead of the waterproofed red-donned fighters.

The yellow grass turned to black and spread, finally kissing the vinyl side while we were napping. Meantime, whipped into the shrubs was an unsecured butane lighter.

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