some sort of random party
by Hezekiah Allen Taylor

afterglow, Kansas City

on the interstate cement silos (rigid job titles) spin by just past the guardrail
looking rough to touch, as if a single reach-slowly-out the window
toward them, yet not quite connecting
will pool complacency like blood brought to the surface of the skin
and at eleven p.m. on Saturday on the way to blues at the Grand Emporium
the city is high and we are desperate, reaching out for insurgency

Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version
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