Dying Young

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It's natural, the thing to do
to crawl out on needle streaked arms
past urine soaked street lamps
away from the tired roadways
heel scraped sidewalks echoing
in lingoes Espanol and Englase or
H. Rap rap, street black words

to crawl past the flickering neon
beer logos, the limelight on the rocks
past benches and fountains, brick paved walks
asphalt curves, graveled play shapes
into grass, cool green morning dew
that soaks into clothes and hair
as daylight floats in angeled clouds.

A cough is blood, eased on tended lawn
as fix fades into the chills, tremors
and breath shimmers in the slow arc sun
light and dim hope, long shadow fingers
from trees, hills and a gathered crowd
soon a murmur, a parting flow
yellow tape, red lights, shiny silver badge.

And heartbeats explode on Fifth Street
in elevators, office buildings, living rooms
long sterile hallways, wards
whispered letters, four frightening ones
gunshots, knives, and a black screech
and women and the fists of their lovers
all, all, all lost in the panic, one last breath
                                                      too young.