Round a corner,
Downtown.
This is where the beauty’s found.
Duty bound to halt their wheels,
Steal their zeal.
Make it real.
Feel it fizzle.
Feel it grow.
Now you’re sly, you’re lithe,
You’re creeping low.
Through the hedges, dumpsters, cans,
It’s like you’re in a foreign land.
Of lobsters, ashes, lice, and rhyme
Beating out your latest crime.
Flip a quarter.
Crush a lime.
Lick your lips.
It’s almost time.
