I'll never forget that day.

When he and I stood atop

The overpass of our dreams, and under

That flicker-wicker flashing lamppost.

Glowed only his damp shadow, and

His determined victory, and his

Imperious flame right there, before me:

In those eyes, those

Courageous, so done-and-tired, so

Ready for the ultimatum, and down-and-out

For the count.

On the overpass of our dreams.

Flicker-clap, and a little can rolls,

And tumbles right over his shoe, and

Off the edge and down that car. And a piece of paper, the wind,

And another sheet of plastic gale the skies.

"Today's the day."

He breathed, and he spat blood that now

Stained the curb like orange soda.

He curled that dumb frown, and I

Scoffed like a joke, like a win,

On the overpass of our dreams.

"There can only be one."

His front tooth simpered, and that roaring

Siren song simmered, and echoed and sang

Ambulance hymns and firetruck ballads,

But for our standoff, on the overpass of our dreams,

They were not to save.


And with a whip and with a slinging reload,

Saturated with gunpowder and a little

Cheek of dirt.


There can only be none.