A street cuts into our skin
and between our lives. Our memories
hold steady the concrete wall
of cars separating this city
from itself. They can’t see
us except for our shade,
and we can’t speak to them
unless it’s with lead.
We keep to our half
since, “united we conquer.”
The truth is that our spines
are softer than our bullets
and alone, we can’t keep
upright.
