Frenemy

Senses tell me things,

money gives me rings,

I walk into the dusk,

through the music,

through the thunder,

I eat with the gods,

sharing pickles with the fellows on the corners of distant subways, waiting for her,

waiting for her

through the music

through the thunder

through the lightning

the darkening anger that sits on stools painted rouge

like the colour of her skin the way I left her

- the way I touched her

through the music

through the thunder

through the sickening crack of helmet into metal

through the burning screaming flesh that singed on a desert highway through the music

through the thunder

through death, the last enemy

through life, the last frenemy.