The Roof
Alain’s Modelo spilled
foamy tear ran striated
navy matte roof grit
mystery machine, pop
white tear singularity
froth, trickle,windshield
crack one open –
slip the hood, down
the horizon, fire, illegal
Mexican gunpowder
(dontcha know Chinese invented)
mottled downtown Los Angeles.
Every flash in the pre-night gloaming,
an argument won, twixt
pre-adolescence, fathers all
every minor explosion
a tiny, grateful insurrection.
PIEFOLK 