hard to be creative with a fever of 102
to be on top after a third of a handle with no food
a man is left to roam the streets
looking for a burrito with real meat
until the sun agrees to reheat the soul
with the early morning oatmeal bowl
and the tingling tap of a 100 pound girl's knuckle
on the window that forever refuses to buckle
to the calls of love in the productive hours of the afternoon
i ask when they are leaving, and they always answer "soon"