Kept hitting snooze till a character
in my dream said it was time to go.

I don’t even know, hustling down
the hill, face full of sun.  The sticker

bushes outside unkempt houses
lash out, try to draw blood.

Heat spurring growth
and anger, bikers constantly

squeezing by on the sidewalk.
On your left, on your left.

Your right to pass ends
where my thorns begin

(says the bramble.
Not me.)