I remember the sun-
the light of a thousand moments,
all vying for their fifteen minutes.
Scratching at the sorrow of another yesterday
while shivering up to a dumpster-
served up on a concrete platter.
I remember her eyes.
Electric spheres of blue
rising over an imperfect smile-
the smoking gun clenched between her fingers.
My messiah with a blank stare,
scarred, crucified veins.
I remember cold steel in a Florida June
locked against shivering bone-
rubbing my wrists raw
And the impending sense a rabbit must experience
before the fox snaps its jaws.
I remember the tempest which followed,
the emptiness left in its wake-
The sour, bleached air washed over
a patina of mildew and
I remember the days becoming indiscernible from night
as we digested deep within the concrete bowels, roiling and
stripped from our individuality, learning to embrace
a new social security- we are all animals at our core; and
I remember the cold black winds of January
piercing my soul like an ever-present Gall-
until the fleeting warmth of day
became a fading memory of the sun.