Poem: flaming

the streets are melted butter to

your knife-like walk,

you’re oblivious to my kindergarten talk

I’m religious to your cause

trying to get my claws into

the essence of you – your every

word is true. my very word

is false, still every line I

write is for you. (you never

did ask, it’s true). you’re a fire-dancer

and all my dreams are up in smoke

which is why I’m down…