Christopher Mayer
Dirty Jacket

The heater hums because itís cold outside.
A fist clenches like itís cold outside.
Streets wet with gasoline,
I step over rainbows,
I step over heat.

The littlest arrow
is an ejaculation.
The words come out and they quiver at my heart.
Penitent stranger why donít you sleep under the elm tree?
Itís dry there and Iíll get you a blanket.

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