Elation

Editor back-issues, poetry

If tires could score patterns into pavement then these would be indelible whorls, fingertip prints dancing like overburdened bunting, stretched until tight, then released to snap in rubbery tangles, twisted and perfectly unplanned. Everything’s reflecting as visible music, an evening composed in motion, all the shining eyes aglow, waypoints, lit fuses, blurred meteors blinking over darkened sidewalks as I nod…

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