Grating the Asphalt

An empty vessel receives anything.

The stroller held no child.

She was me.

No alien but, perhaps, a stranger.

Foreign.


I walk the block.

Stalk the running ground.

Note where cigarette butts have

been discarded.

Curious cars cruise.


Suddenly, I breathe fire.

My silver wings unfurl.

They are cold, blue steel

this sundown.

Each feather a shiny, double-edged blade.

Sparks sprinkle behind as they strike the pavement.

I ‘walk like a giant on the land.’

A girl does not see the car approaching her.

I slam the metallic feathers

hard

against the ground.

The dear freezes before being in the head-lights,

and looks over.

Wings already retracted out of sight.

I shrug and give a goofy smile.


I pass A Avenue.

I remember someone wondering if they meant

An Avenue.

I find the fourway intersection at Hemlock & Main.

But, where is

The Avenue?


In/definite articles.

Derived and integral.

I h0wl fire,

flames forth,

[Silent]

Un0bservable except to the energetic-ally

Sighted.

The sun catches my flames and explodes into a sunset.

Pink and blue sky-eyes

Make a wish.

The haze and light will

Last

A bit longer

Still.

Author: writtencasey

I am fascinated by the scientific endeavor and I read about or engage with those processes as much as possible. I am a compulsive reader and writer. With a background in anthropology and as an arm-chair/backyard scientist, I hope to improve my writing skills and learn about any areas of weakness or misunderstanding in my analytic skills. I am excited to share. Thank you for spending time here. Please reach out if you are so inclined. I'd be excited to hear from you.

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