Hormones fall out of my pocket
and into the middle of the street
GO, the crossing guard said
I was obsessed with the lack of traffic lights
Did I want to be a sacrifice to the cars?
To be run over a car
To be set on fire
Left flailing on the asphalt
While onlookers gawked
To face off
With the actor
Lying on the operating table
Amidst the trauma of having your entire
Face removed
The surgeon has to pause
At the beginning, middle, and end
Of surgery to study
The sequence of events
Despite the drone of the day
My heart just looking for
A place to spend the night
And drink the rain with
The cleaning lady
I hold hands with the radio star
Living inside a bush
Pray over his virgin
Torso sheathed
In tropical leaves
I could not resist touching
His tuning dial
The day once again ruined
By the sounds of the radio