Romance and Futility At the Grid Iron

These feet and hands move with pride While frozen minds reside in stations The gurgle of romance catapults Limp eyes fortunate to be blind Setting tables, memories on the wing Eclipsed lung of chain linked usury Chance on the balcony flips greater pockets still Silver rings on the oven to match electricity Now the grid iron flashes through Beating heat to patronize tongues The alphabet of spacial sense Time barricades these permanent exits