Sunday Morning

Street/Caution

I’m sprinting through alleys,
hoppin’ manholes,
taking shortcuts,
dodging taxis,
cause you might have said “come here”.

Every time I lose and find myself on a new street
I have a feeling that something big’ll hit me,
if it hasn’t already.
I should be careful.
But I’ve torn down the caution sign
that shadowed over my head like an oil spill.

Now I’m burning yellows,
running stop signs,
just looking for that big thing to hit me.