vigilante park -- by Ross Robbins

dangerously close to the edge again today-- or yesterday, rather, it's 3:30 pitch dark. that same old gutless yet gutsy face on lookin into junky's eyes with a pleading puppy dog wish in my own. seemed to offer (so I thought) a promise for later I took for myself-- never really happened at all. so I fell back on caffeine merry-go-round giggles ecstatic back-to-youth spins cartwheels and smiles-- and ended on my back, laughing at my own silly ways, midnight--smoking my cigarettes, junky's eyes off my mind just then-- for a moment, not quite so close to the edge.