Last Line Of Defense

The crowd waits in the humidity
for the night to start and things
to brighten up again.
A boy and girl become the last awake
in the abandoned house
and sit with their backs against the wall
amidst a strobe light.
They show each other knives
they carry as a last line of defense
out in those sagging streets
that drift apart like ice sheets
in the ocean.
They move the board blocking
the window and walk around again
just talking, neither one of them
have money in their pockets.
Vines grow up the power lines,
almost cutting circulation
from the grid.
Smoke stacks rust and fall apart
sending pieces of themselves
far down the river where
the lost way off the path
resort to drinking what
they gather in their palms.