Though invisible,
it exhibits
fluid, unctuous shadows
around my shadow.
The fumes, even in my hair,
hoop and halo
then expire
in their own mirage. The rush
of a passing bus
sweeps morning up
in devils and I’m loosed
on the heatstruck
crosswalk. Swiftly,
in the molten flow
of asphalt and medians
and autoelephants,
I no longer sense
the aura you lent.