with a candle
for a head
Wanting to be fit
with something festive.
A high pulse.
To talk all the wrong talk
I had a mouth the way a human has a mouth.
But I was a dune of coal.
The street yawned its long sheath peeled open like a wire in the night.
I went down to the cornerful of black mist,
the station of a fragment human.
It began there in leather cuffs of light.
Fuse: my barking color.
I thought I did not exist. Or I was a team of people.
I wanted expert protection.
I wanted something crazier. A high skying flyover.
Some William Tell.