Runaway

All night shelter as Citizen Same shelters a grey animal, alive and/or stuffed a half hour before thanksgiving. There’s a record surplus of bold characters just like him living outside the tyranny of technology. Not everyone is on it. A rain soaked field. For the record, there’s an unyielding shield of love for the grungy man who is posted on the silver nipple like a broken record of scratched proclamations. Accusations of the fix needle the duty to pet and protect.

As the orange and blue caterpillar buses pass by and slow near the pickup point, the doors stay closed because he does not request a ride. Beading water spits off of all fours’ treads, all seasons rolling over burning colors of traffic signals. The sound is warmer than digital white noise as the storm slides through Santa Monica Boulevard. The system cycles through steaming ashes of contemporary ruins. Shallow saturations dash into muddy runoffs like runaway trucks about to jackknife.