Hot Crimes at the Scene of the Time

by on May 21, 2011 :: 0 comments

On hot days, dusty window tint snaked through lots
looking for a less sweaty walk to Adobe shops,
corner to corner, plus sizes to caged mice in pet shops.
No clouds canopied weathered bench screws and

rust-free germy handles hung on to black hole windows
as 10 languages hissed bargains from inconsiderate speakers,
as mothers and strollers slithered between shadow and sun
past open doors, cooling sunburned concrete, snapping pop music poison.

The dollar’s dogma disciplined disciples by discounts
while grackles publicly pleaded for pretzel samples;
cricket corpses collected in corners, and no matter
the season’s styles, scales were shed for new threads,

While, in ceilings, rats were safe from fangs and
the soundtrack of quarter-operated laughter.

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