How to forget the Concrete

by Walden Hoddie

Sticky pavement steams in the spotlight of the sun,

Red exterior glimmering, adorning tinted windows,

Obscuring

Glazed faces,

From a birdseye:

Scarabs in a desert

Tires; women in black leather, hair seeping into

slick oil, consuming the shades of spinning wheels,

and in the worn grey seats encrusted with the crumbs of last year’s saltine crackers,

Eyes spiral and sublimate into the clementine orb

providing fruitful light to droning redwood eyes upon

rectangular screens—the sun no longer comes from above

The Promethean gift multiplied; three baskets of fish, and

Man returned the gift, to gorge on the blue tendrils which

Gripping skull, pour luminescent crystal waterfalls from the sockets,

provisioning pulse to the waking dream, IV drip to a interiority;

Vision blurred to forget the concrete stream which slithers past,

slaughtering time, severing linear hands

Walden is a writer.