Tyler Fugazzie

curfew is the stale ring
stalling street lights red
raising fire escape ladders
stilling the once chatter-filled sidewalks

insomnia is the refusal
to lay stiff and walk inside visions,
opting for a soupier experience
with reality’s dark-skinned cousin

week after week
i stick forks in electrical sockets
and poke the drawn-up fire escape ladder
outside my apartment

the signal feed to Fred says
“I’m ready for a tour”
his growled excitement is his readiness

we’ve cancelled continuing ed
curriculums with the way
we bend fences and dent
curfew-struck denizens

i’ve denied myself the
simple cyborg pleasures for
too long

they call us fossil freaks
but we’re too sweet to be buried
underneath and undiscovered with
the quick brush strokes of a
neatly packaged archaeology student

i’ve broken peaces with most
who look backwards then down
at me for holding on with
my hydraulic hand

they tease me as if i’m
afraid of an armed raced
to the graveyard monster mash

i go there all night
fast and in fashion