Midnight Angelfish
They dance upon the rocks,
as if with fire under feet,
blood smeared on their faces from the
berries in the wood
near the drug store
next to Guchizelli’s: Gasoline (and stuff).
They talk with twisted tongues that
twirl, together,
in the metal ship
roaring through the concrete
and the dirt. (They have to stick together).
They walk with straightened spines
and brisk, soled feet
with ten toes
exactly, (more or less),
and they’re always moving,
like the sharp-toothed
angelfish
beneath the salty
waves,
they cannot stop
moving,
walking,
running,
sprinting.
They cannot stop speaking,
yelling,
cursing,
singing.
They cannot stop dancing
upon the concrete rocks,
under the fluorescent suns,
near the small patch of woods,
down a forgotten dirt path.
and,
if you look close enough,
and read your map correctly,
and if no one else is watching…
…you’ll find them next to Guchizelli’s Convenience: Gasoline.