Engines & Locks

As I stood
A thousand feet tall,
I began to recall
The thousand times before,
Wondering what I was waiting for
When city lights stunk like onions
And brought tears to my eyes
When annual winds would sigh
At this dismal sight:
Me, wasting away my night.
A slave to my sex
And acoustic sets.

The year started
With a predicate
Without a nominative.
A run-on sentence,
Running on
Chance,
Change and
Difference.

Oh, this was brought on
By coincidental design,
A bright night pieced together
Like a dynamite Lite-Brite.

You took the fuse
And burned it,
Now I'll put in the key
And turn it.