the law of relativity

Sweat clings like a long distant lover
sending text messages
in the heat of the day
the pallette of pinks
grows starker
as we deteriorate

We are rising steam
on the bitumen
momentary illusions
conquered by speed
night swept and wasted
cut cooked and tasted
and spat out onto dry river beds

Beneath the kitchen sink
between detergent and dried out
sponges there is a box of redemption
going stale in a lunchbox empty
and outdated filled with apples peels
and too dry tobacco

The truths that we float on become
soapsuddded and eyes bloodshot
iritated at what we have seen
spiteful remembrances serve as
unspoken condolences for opportunities
burnt into favorite pans