you and I are

deep like the pixels

in the hi-def tv

gyrating to the heat

of summer sun

while traffic stops for

our wandering feet

you and I are

like faded labels on

black nail polish as

music blasts out from

reggae red cars

you and I are

never ending in

other language misunderstanding

sugar on your tongue

like sliced cocaine

can you taste the venom

of the streets?