They…

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They mark their path in prayers.
They think only in terms of flight.
They rip the ribbons of a sunrise.
They drink cheap wine in boiler rooms.
They have masks for every occasion.
They bathe in burning gold.
They take the wind by the wrists and
they hoist it up the flagpole of human error.
They don’t generally prefer preferential treatment.
They can swing like jazz pendulums.
They put their patience on a pedestal.
They have America in their smiles.
They collectively shit bones.
They don’t like us very much.

-r. miller

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