imagine walking on hot coals or a New Yorker’s footwork at rush hour    it’s a pre-panicked hustle with muscle   132,133, 134   counting...

or frog, snail or salamander always wet and snot-slimed dodging my beloved sun   water is their lover   I’m a lizard, blood runs cold...

so hard to notice the victims of loneliness in this bullet-less war   they walk among us toting smiles saying kind words   before heading...