Walking Each Other Home

Blazing business leaves kisses of debris on streets; before the traffic
starts but after sunrise creeps up the slopes of Chinatown.

The sirens usher spiders in my dreams. The distance of screams, a
family of four. The flames build a licking fort using the shingles as its
cohorts,
and no water brings it down.

We feel the flames and we fall for the orange,
illuminating hope of starting
over before
they’re boarded up like
melted windows.

We’re left to walk each other
home but we live in an age
of transients
sleeping in
tents on
city hall lawns.

Let disparity begone,
they plead,
for we’ve watched our picket
fence dream drenched in
gasoline and lit,

and passersby spit on
its remains.

And although the
powers that be may
abandon me to
men dressed to
battle,

their weapons will never rattle our
beliefs.

We could live on a bus, in
a park,
under bridges,
you could miss
Christmas and I’ll always be
your tether.

All that matters is
where you want
to go,
because as long as
we’re going together, we’ll always be
walking each
other
home.

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One thought on “Walking Each Other Home

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