This Ain’t No Place For A Hero

Courage is lost between broken

street lamps. The glass bleeds,

staining the pavement.

Step once, stop twice.

The crunch is transparent

either way.

A box of matches, crumpled,

torn, there is no striker.

Discarded. Sand paper just won’t do.

Not here.

Not there.

Not never.

If only a candle,

could handle the cold.

It can’t.

Flames aren’t transparent.

Blindness is not a disability.

Rigid letters.


Sharp words.

Three crunches.

Two sets of footsteps.

One laceration.

There is a paper on the newsstand,

photographs obscured by accidental

coffee stains. Best be careful out there.

Capes are nooses, gadgets

malfunction, and the other people

in masks are dangerous.