"Stray Dog Freedom" on Highway 29

with wings of whales
they
travel
across the concrete dotted
like Russian children at a chalkboard,
the dotted lines progress through
time stretching to the ether—
much further past Jesus' motherland
screaming "Give me liberty,
or give me ———"

three boys, I see and a "shell game"
I hear, and I suddenly see-hear
shells filled with air—
minds transpiring air and bleeding
with static television infomercials
of their childhoods.

the boys run sacrificially across
the dotted lines making a solid
pathway—
both create a
dissipating cross.

their minds are de-synced to Jonathan
Edwards and they refuse to believe
that air is all that lingers between
them and the fiery furnace—

so with Equality, they run dodging
cars like Atari half-moons and I
hinder my speed to avoid
obstructing their justice.

I won't take away their liberty.
And as I watch them jump the
guard rail, I know those smiles
will fade and they
will never be free.