A star falls on the street
my street.
When the sunbeam measured my swirling eye as if to direct my sleeping mind with the waves of notions once forgotten and trying to be remembered.
I still forget swinging on the stump of a mans broken leg.
There’s a scream
a howl from the kettle that can no longer take the pain of fire
and so it jumps of the ledge in a zig zag motion.