still life groove

on my street all bodies are proportioned

on my street the lengths are defined

the police dont patrol down my street

on my street everything is just fine

i walk all night down my street

the moon makes it really all mine

then its gone and everyone brings out their power mowers and vintage cars from their garage

completely unaffected by the breeze

everything belongs to someone on my street

the earth and the dirt and the trees

a sickness envelopes like the artificial lights

the one in front of my house blinks on and off

i cant wait for it to die

its stuttering sparkle near-sights my eyes and i cant softly focus my gaze on anything quiet

because nothing ever happens on my street

like a painting to motivate slaves

no one has a cool head on my street

so everyone keeps out of the way

Reviews

[Scott H.]

This is really good. The imagery and voice really seem spot-on. Well done.