This one feels a little unfinished, with some mixed metaphor; I may revisit this. I am going to avoid free verse next week and try a few different established forms.

—

oil smells
sliding across an empty parking lot
the night chilling
through clothes

singing means to comfort
and rebuild the toppled ramparts of pride
fly a new flag

but in this vast atom
a particle
a-buzz
forgettable in the din and shine of electrons
swarming

Envious of energy
Shrug shoulders into pockets
Kick pebbles and watch them collide

Between is only air
Between is the sky