There are spaces between cracks where
ant-like bodies are strewn, stretched out
Long before they grew wings
It is hot hot hot hot hot hotter than last
and 3-wheeled windows are open
I dunno if you’re at work
This is where I was last night, too:
Smearing honey-charred streaks between
eyes and avoiding lips
Rolling over after under ever now never
There are spaces under doors where
black plastic can slip and melt when
it’s this hot as hot as seat belts in cars
and musk
I’ve cleaned all the plates and glasses.
There are spaces next to paste where
white masks make up the matter, thin
Late and getting wetter
We talk amongst cans, to be able to and leave
locking, letting lights on and piping me
Filth and specs - sicker than most
This is like cap, over bonnet but darker
ruder and wrench-less in the blue heat
fishing for black spikes
and laughing very very loudly
There are spaces over yellow glares where
water can’t take me, anymore but your
bleak cave stays torn
I’ve left with the bottle leak.