Black leather, on
Jeggings, tobacco
A femme Danny Zuko
Something’s about to happen
Something baaaaad
Streets designed
let alone the -iesque
for running I guess
Can one run
from ovulation?
All that for a kilometer,
ardency of the month
Escaping very new, very ancient
All the lungs, all the deeds
‘til asthma
can’t catch up
With a little bit of luck
I’ll end up at the wrong address