La Mirada

One stop to another, all in a row, one of the few gray stationary shelters. Hope is coming down the line. A blue wave falls head over heels in the form of a blanket. Citizen Same succumbs to circadian rhythms resting against the spruced up metal siding. The bubble signature got popped. A single blue circle drips downward like the first test shot before the rattle can went wild. Undercover inside the urban hut. Sleep while grace opens the prison gates. Captives are set free. Uncover the truth, you’ll need a parachute. RIP cords have been cut. A short hop over the symmetrically sound wall. Riddims hidden in hands and feet twist and turn into head spins. Open the led lids there’s no getting rid of the helmet of salvation.

Overnight the Spirit soars by the littering and the loitering. Sight is given back. The rentals go mental for the elastic. Keep their clothes from falling off before the plastic gets recycled. Inaction causes bed sores, but the Lord activates la mirada with him into the kingdom. Peace ices a gang of factions into fractions. Like a Maintenance Call could ever restore the city. Jesus’ diced back and onion eyes sliced through the curtain so we could freestyle in the Fountain on Vine. Greatest love. Chimes and kick drums on the other side. Warships are rolling on high seas. RIP currents bridle my tongue from choral worship arrangements close to the littoral beaches. Bomb out the active seeker’s courage that’s like crystallized frozen peas, but hellfire even at a standoff distance can not overcome boiling faith.