fire

a man must be forged
in the furnace of his mind
lest he die empty.

metal whines like wasps.
cretinous meat sacks at helm.
my rage a stampede.

the wind a river
that carries me down the path.
my lungs are the oars.

in the old wild west
gunslingers fought with the law.
just us with bullets.

the still deep blue lake
sparkles like fresh cut diamonds.
blinds like a sharp sun.

a poke in the eye.
a dry heat, a heave and sigh.
summertime songs lost.