(chemical brothers)

forge into the frost of
 winter's rough lips and 
roam dark streets in search of 
lady luck, arm in arm, four footfalls 
echo between silent sentinels 
soaring the dark sky. 
scaffoldings and screen-ins make 
poor fit for the wind that 
carries with it a desirable desolation in 
the land of mechanized monotony. 
slip into a place where ghosts and 
legends beat their boots and 
chemical brothers dial up poison from 
rainbow wells. 
under the floorboards hides a chatty 
Dickens-like character with a
generous grin 
documenting the days attire and 
dreaming handsomely of 
strawberry fields and sun-soaked days 
hand in hand with a whisper.