Wednesday, 25 January 2012

Close Encounters of the Worst Kind

In the heat
of the moment, my shoes stick
like bubblegum
to the burning tarmac.

Heavy summer air,
thick with words I'd choke on
if I tried to cough them out,
hovers between headlights
and trapped animal.

Peeling off my shoes
like blistered skin,
I turn and run
until the pavement swallows me up
feet first,
bite after bleeding bite.

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