Mke poem

honey thick air coats the river like the back of a spoon in cream, faming the city into a glittery dew. the perfect place to make mistakes right under everyone’s faces. like a distant thundering herd, you wake the sourdough neighbors up in their medium-softness warehouse-deal mattresses, hammering a brass nail anthem through the night; maybe one that used to belong to an older, braver generation (for protection from the police) or maybe a heavy bass (to announce an entrance) or a crystalline, fragrant, electric beat: a resounding “amen” to your general caprice. after all, you’ve done your time. you’ve had the hose put on your sense of entitlement.
this is yours.
you’re entitled to this.