stranger #1 walks to and fro, always away from the city's neon glow,
stranger #2 flys amongst the kites, his oil filled aircraft falling closer through the night,
engines churn and footsteps fall, a grave mistake for one and all,
says stranger #1: "i can't reply, my voice is shot, my tail is high"
a running boy, leap-frog from shadow to shadow,
a shade in light, a figure in veils,
says stranger #2: "i can reply, my lead is falling on your grubby little houses,
and if you don't slow your feet, my crafty craft will surely hasten"
says stranger #1: "i can't! i can't! my feet won't slow, they blur and creak, my weary bones"
says stranger #2: "i will fly and catch your useless flight, a severed hand for a severed right, but if you choose the path you so badly seek, one bird more will follow the weak"
run, run, run, rabbit run, through the alleys and the sewers,
for the mangy and the fluids, nothing will come, but something waits hither,
ahead? or behind?, a broken boy's lasting glares wither.