The blue star of hope
rose over Sixteenth Street this morning
where the gourmet taco store
abuts a beauty salon.
It was filled
with helium and shone
inside a bright metallic skin
as it kept climbing toward the light
that couldn’t quite break
through the clouds.
At Palm Lane, a couple
with bad teeth and dressed in camouflage
pushed a grocery cart apiece,
turning after two blocks
toward McDowell, while the star floated
ever higher, ever more
elusive,
until it was just a speck
wiped from the fire god’s eye.
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