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Zion
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liar on every same street,
watching all the complaining,
strait following, driving us to the next stop, still open in line to the only line.
interupted and bound.
they don't seem to know the hits or misses they mean. the right or the wrong their parents let them slide with. he grabs her by the arm, meaning to hold her back, she slaps him against the cheek drawing back.
it's all the same when the time is carried on past them,
it's all the wrong, when they both can't do it all again.
it's all one touch,
and all one less word.
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180708
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