with the scent o’ berries, too;
smudged on smoky sidewalk chalk.
Chalk it up to moonlit blues,
choking me up harshly soft.
Chatter dead is better than dead
silence wand’ring wolfen streets on
urban hills that never bend &
shatters into icy neon.
Moonlight full o’ foggy capes,
follow me through thin-black japes’
scarecrow boughs that ease me blank.