MacGyver and me

Late night meeting

He comes

A groan withdraws

Within the pardon

I need a distraction

I need his diversion

Another night aborts around the twelve turnaround

Moving through the halo of numbers

Choking the hands of time

This outline destines the viable trigger

Will he shake the smallest moon?

Or shake a farewell

And make distances of my ugly past?

The trade views the spectrum

Before a crime emerges the music

I am almost back from the dead