salt burns the ground as it drops
past every broken umbrella
left out in the rain by cold mops of wet hair
each a kiss goodbye fleeting on the tongue
caramel scotch leaves him drunk with hope
in every thought and crunch of salt
the smallest crack in every stained road
sour tastes for a Monday's feast
or so was expected and forgotten
one blink changes the whole scent of calm
ripples scatter, a sea of rats grin
onto the reflections of broken down subway cars
that say "we want you" but it's not important
inside the factory's locked doors
broken umbrellas flap, blackbird's wings
in production under powerlines
to be shocked in the ghostly rain
by some profound idea thrown out in a hurry
dried vinyl spinning in with salt
plastered on sidewalks to be
trampled under high heeled women
