my shoes, birds in flight.
i hear your yellow toenails, smell your laughter bounce
off your footsteps, through the benches of a street.
because you left your shoes untied, the trains have stopped running across the niagara river;
their empty sound being the folded duct tape of apathy. the texture of
cotton candy fills the air, clouds it with a taste of grease on dry lips.
some would crack at the sight of this rust, that is my hometown.
but this is jacob's background, outcast boy in his element, all a stench of french fries and cheap booze, and
the sight of the bank doors, opening and closing,
all horrorshow looks on people's faces.
my shoes are glued to the sidewalk!
stuck like tornadoes or falling rain, the sidewalk glaring and laughing at me, my legs
begin to kick the bank windows in, and i knew
i knew! this repetition would cause chaos! CARPE DIEM, screams the grounded sky.
i washed the windows with
mud-covered rags, clogging what truth i did not want seen.
(that the world is greedy.)
"hey, whatcha starin' at?" a hollow voice asks.
"nothing," i reply.
the birds are rapid, with untouched feathers.