Zine Fragment 073: “Chrome Saints in the Rain”

It was the kind of rain that cut the neon in half—
blade-sharp, relentless, and already in the gutters before it touched the ground.
They rode through it without slowing,
chrome dripping with streetlight halos,
helmets streaked in glistening comet tails.

No one watching from the alleys
could tell if they were chasing something,
or being chased.

And maybe that was the point.