Rerun

Crank the volume
Hands at ten and two
Don’t
Take a scroll
Busy hands, idle mind
Leave
Nothing to see here
Turn up the glare
Me
Lost in a cul-de-sac
The familiar bird sings
Alone
At last a destination
Its aluminum gates yawn
With
Rusty twang
exposed too long
Her
Heart finds no place
To hide anymore.