Hair kept unkempt to flow in the
       wind. Clouds reign over the sea by 
this road. Tires sear the pavement
       with our passion so hard we leave
blue embers behind. Ankles on
       dashboards, sunglasses in rainbow.
Skin on skin, the tenderness of a
       hand, of a laugh. Peach fuzz & smiles.
The horizon: blushing red like a
       first kiss, ensnaring our eyes some
place warmer & deeper. 

We are finding the city where 
       light is a flower you can grow &
gender is a weather, not a climate
       & our bodies are so viscerally chaotic 
that looks have a taste & 
       voices have a scent—where we stride away 
from acapella laughter & chorused 
       beliefs, away from sanitized routine &
dirty gods & into a city, who breathes. 

We know, our dreams shatter 
       mosaics & homophobes—judgment
pearled in oaths & faith, the
       gilded pretenders. What we irradiate 
is sloughed of synthetic dialogue, 
       nice facades: our meaningless rambles 
& penny pockets full of aspiration. 
       Our dreams bend stars & reroute the 
night into technicolor. Our hands
        trace the air down this hill whose 
deadline is an open embrace—
       our promises exposed like exit wounds 
we heal with song.

Anthony Imm is a writer from New Jersey. Nationally recognized by the Alliance for Young Artists & Writers, his pieces have been published and/or forthcoming in Idle Ink, Fleeting Daze Magazine, Hot Pot Magazine, Eunoia Review, and elsewhere. He can be found on Instagram @anthony.imm.