Midnight Angelfish

They dance upon the rocks,

as if with fire under feet,

blood smeared on their faces from the

berries in the wood

near the drug store

next to Guchizelli’s: Gasoline (and stuff).

They talk with twisted tongues that

twirl, together,

in the metal ship

roaring through the concrete

and the dirt. (They have to stick together).

They walk with straightened spines

and brisk, soled feet

with ten toes

exactly, (more or less),

and they’re always moving,

like the sharp-toothed

angelfish

beneath the salty

waves,

they cannot stop

moving,

walking,

running,

sprinting.

They cannot stop speaking,

yelling,

cursing,

singing.

They cannot stop dancing

upon the concrete rocks,

under the fluorescent suns,

near the small patch of woods,

down a forgotten dirt path.

and,

if you look close enough,

and read your map correctly,

and if no one else is watching…

…you’ll find them next to Guchizelli’s Convenience: Gasoline.