Intensity is inside a pinecone, waiting
history is in seconds
when running down the boulevard
with a lone bucket of water
church on fire, crackling
there is no changing lanes
there is no repeat
eyes squinched against the heat
solitude is orange
pain is in seconds
when running through the dust
with no thought for gravity
eyes on fire, brimming
there is no changing lanes
there is no repeat
only a need so terribly sweet
church fire is out, everyone calm and hungry
priority is in seconds
when watching the empty bucket
with a mind full of the night
ego on fire, exalting
there with the men
eating ash and granola bars
solitude is orange
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