375
Cattiveria
The hot still air,
thick on inhale
painting the mountains blue
oh how I forget all the rules
when I think of
Cattiveria
Crummy fantasies
staining my vision
the wetness in my language
We smoked a cigarette in bed
and said nothing.
Broken like my ashtray, cracked like concrete
Cattiveria came by day and pounded pavement
on the street. By night