Wire

Light from no where passes
over the wall, and she noticed through
the corner of her eye.
Bikes with small frames, as
dark as gun metal, are driven
without fear off the tops of
stone staircases. The last
helmet the rider ever possessed
was incinerated with a lighter,
and a old can of hair spray, when she
was seven.
There could be no doubt about
the existence of heaven because
that older guy, Lucas, claimed to
have seen it when he split open
his jaw on the handle bars.
They wrapped wire around his mouth
so it would heal right, and it
looked like the same kind they
made prison fences out of.
Not the razor sharp stuff at the
top of the fence, but the main part
underneath it that you’re always
trying to get through
to be free.

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