Blister

Here's the truth of it, boy, and you'd be damned smart
To write it down somewhere:
If you brush up against something
That's too hot for the likes of you ––
Run too wide-open for way too long
On roads you've never
Seen -- well, you're just going to get burned.
That drywhisper hiss, you heard it coming
Plenty of time to move, fool,
So why didn't you?
You stayed around for the blister.
All sweat-slick and full of memory,
There's nothing for it now but to wait.

©2008 Timothy W Holland