Distance means nothing to strangers
who quarrel over blown flames.
Nothing imagined ever garnered style.
Groupies follow in packs, allowing herds
of pot heads and chain smokers who blame
distance between strangers
who deal, blow, and slur
their articulate words, garnered game
with nothing but style.
Gangsters with their hoods
caught by cops who arrest them by name
distance themselves from the strangers
they fear they have blurred
lines defined by their predecessors who aim
their imaginations to garner their style.
Love, hate, they misread what they heard
from mouths they never see. No shame
in the distance between two strangers
with nothing but their imaginations and garnered style.
Written by Amanda B Hansen
2016 April 20