Seventeen pounds heavy
in the bass
Exactly ten feet from the danger sign.
Vandals had less chaos-lust than these
Ecstatic children of our mores and malls.
Now they tumble, burning, molten steel
To their molds like white-hot waterfalls,
Empty, plunging hearts too sheer to freeze
Each time the lights go on, the worlds align,
No wall of sound across one's ravaged
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.