I break from tradition slide into insistence, head on most dangerous and drive. Once there, six more surround. Packed through and headed in one straight mile. Left few blocks, over, left, right, park rises into the tight kiss. The bump of one back. The 440 struggles. Looking out through an overhead. Doors hang streets. I squeeze space North to South. I kneel across the guy to open the back hood. Sliced into the middle of the front, vibrating. Two-story crowd-running parallel music. Hinged I blare talk inside of the dance. I brace myself, people bent. Wedged between years and albums. Held in place by my buzzing and the ears of my ring. I find down, to my right, and inspect the upstairs—its fast o’clock and countdown tries to weave off the way. I sip my gold hair and hold square.
I check the suede. It’s almost hell. At first a distant stare, then closer. I can eye/go the eyes. In the distance, barreling toward me, my NOW almost here. The wild one roars past, so close I could drop. Window honk space, heads shorter the four-inch. The straight mile we ran, made right through my bundle. Yells with my, hey! I manage wide open. I laugh, all the hurry on the stairs of the party—in their sidewalk they quickly push by. I hold up my stovepipes to their efforts. Now here, I get a top line. 6 AM and my look decides.
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