In the middle of the mayhem a guiding light was seen, flying forward in a dream state a state of mind of grimy rhymes whining tires on the highway of hard knocks--did you look inside my box? Pandora asks you at midnight right before you become at one with the darkness, a meadow lark in rapture singing in the pews, raising wise daughters and sons, lifting voices up through danger to the highest cracks in the ceiling.
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Soaking up the rain and whipping spit of the waves, as he stood next to the ocean of my memory, a fire hydrant in a red windbreaker, glaring...
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"Well...that was dramatic." I didn't know what he meant until I saw the ink spilled everywhere and the moths in her hair like ...