Late Shift Shortcut

The gravel here is louder

than the main road.

I take the north gate

because the bus driver

didn't show, or the street

is being ripped apart again.

Someone left a butterfly

stuck on a wire stake.

It’s caked in fine, gray grit.

The sun didn’t give it enough

to last the whole night.

The blue light stutters

deep in the yellow grass,

a dying pulse

next to a name I can't read

in the dark.