streetside dreams

sodium carbonate & daisy chainsaw weddings

i drip down i-95 stalagmites

one hundred miles an hour to New Mexico

beer stein lace-gloved hand

chugging – on my Ibanez

she knows the chords

(i do not)

to some angry streetside punk tune

that sounds like last summer

and tastes like forgotten crushes

– you know, the ones that fall upon your tongue

every night

every trash can broken glass lower class night

and die in your dreams

before every starry morning