{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 11}
Tire.
But not like rubber.
Not malleable.
Not heat-retardant,
crack-retardant,
split-retardant,
force-retardant,
paper-holding
hair bun-holding,
spandex,
latex
thing that we somehow pull out of trees.
Tire like lethargy.
Tire in keeping with the light of sobering stars
moving slowly across the sky
as you slowly succumb to sobering sleep.
Situational: somber street lights lining
asphalt streets that linger in your line of sight
as you leave one place to find
another.
Leave the lights;
lie down lavishly (or lumpily)
and learn to list off little sheep
that lollygag across
a lay-er’s sleep.