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EACH NIGHT BRINGS OUT ITS BROWN WOMEN MEDITATING ON SPIKED HEELS. (SOUNDS SHARP AS SNIPER FIRE, DISTINCT, FROM THE ROOF. ON THE STREET BLACK SHAPES OF EVENING & DESIRE ROTATE & DRIFT SOFTLY THROUGH THE WARM AIR & NEON SUCCULENCE. WE COULD MAKE IT SO GOOD THE BLOOD WOULD FLOW FROM OUR EYES & OUR EARS. NAKED WOMEN BROUGHT TO ME CHAINED, MY FINGERS SHINE IN HER HAIR. (I NEED THIS DESIRE). TAMBOURINES, RADIOS, SIDEWALK LOVER, THE SCREAM AMPLIFIED BEYOND LONELINESS AS IF THE LOSS OF LOVE IS A BEAUTIFUL HIGH.

Brad Jones

Detroit