There are no benches,

So where can  I sit?
In the entrance of the supermarket?
On a pallet with wood that has split?

Along the sky , lanterns are aglow
But only with the smoke of tomorrow´s shadow.
My flight and fight hormone are on street credit 

inside the shoes where my soles don´t fit.

The dizzy spiralling, looking up at narrows signs

The  shapes are featureless because of glaring sunshine


I must escape and return to our car. 

As the news at sun up,

Closed off , under control,
 Fire , Fire.