blue sky black death.
we played hopscotch together on the cement
pavement in shorts and sandals, sat on street
corners with orange popsicles during winter
until our fingertips were kissed frostbitten.
now we are enraptured by invisible demons -
satan's coveted kisses in the dark that whisper
sweet nothingless lullabies and encouragement
to shed our skin into a metamorphosis of the
cobra obscured by sand.
who stalks and wanders, tastes dry desert heat
with every flick of his tongue and he never learns.
hides himself six feet underground beneath their
feet, never coming up for air and wondering why
they don't notice him at all.