fire

with his hair trigger
bullets bark and bite through flesh.
leaden hounds of hell.

the warmth is inside.
too hot for the smiling sun.
the breeze keeps hiding.

in a metal tube
skipping upon the blue lube.
a can full of rubes.

the nighttime dealers
looking for light in darkness.
without midnight oil.

music is melody.
drumming the beat to long life.
being mute is moot.

black night draws the veil
sun rests head on tomorrow.
night yawns us to sleep.