Heavy breathing near the mic, the metallic clink of a Zippo lighter cutting the silence.
A distant siren wails, fading into the hum of a V8 engine.
Cracked asphalt tells stories, the rain tries to wash away.
Yellow tape, flapping against the chain link, smoke rings rising toward the flickering street lamp.
Cold chrome resting heavy under the leather jacket.
Don't ask questions when the sirens echo down the block.
Neon signs buzzing like angry hornets.
A handful of crumpled bills passed in the alleyway shadow.
The corner has eyes and they never sleep.
Concrete jungle breathing heavy in the dark.
