Metamorphosis

Wednesday at the Spin-Cycle
I clean my weeping skin
for a dollar.

These are heady days—
my lizard-blood drip-dripping
on the asphalt

my features a blur
in the shimmering heat.

You may not know me
next time we meet.
May think I'm the one gaining fast

in your rear-view mirror
or zig-zagging down the Drag
in my sweet, sweet ride

and you will be right
every time. But if you
find yourself unsure:

watch my mouth
watch my lips
watch my tongue

you will know me

by their gorge
by their gorging
by their raven

by their ra-ra-ra-ravening

by the brightness of my hunger,
Sweetness—
You will know me

by its shine.