Ann Street

Walking with a limp.
It's snowing.
Let me be my poetry.

I came into to this town.
Riding on a memory.
On a low drunk.

Love concussion.
Or dawned on me.
I hate when people say FiDi.

Got a hotel.
Communication traps.
The roar of an inside.

Under satellites.
Amongst eyes.
It's fucking freezing.

Too gold.
There are secrets here.
Strangers walking by.

At the moment I was.
Even worse for weird.
Of an airplane landing.