Monday, October 25, 2010


Wolves howling into the fog
toward wherever we are,
coming at us like the sick orange bulbs
that make to guide our way,
but merely watching sickly,
drops of cold neon green
sweet blood,
following along at a
quickened deadlocked pace,
as we lurch along
like the Chinatown bus
thirsty for $15 and
Baltimore's lights

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