through the wrongs I write

everything is sweating
humidity makes the air
heavier or at least
it's how it seems
back here behind the house
even the wooden deck
feels damp to torch or sit upon
finally out under the stars
moving the pen finally after
so many days stationary
next to another Tuesday night blaze
fire until I tire that's been
the conditional response
to the days off even though
ten hours worked
will surely rest later
when work is done
the right thing after years
gone wrong can't go back
or else we all might
makes the same mistakes again
instead keep moving
forward without a pause like a rebel
in eighties hip-hop only
the true heads will know
twenty-five years always
be real always have been
even through the wrongs
I write until the coals glow orange
dimming as clouds
of humidity descend...