Waiting {{REVISED}}

Diamonds litter the sky and grow at my feet
and sneakered toes crunch-crunch
right on through, unaffected.
Cars and houses are a gaudy display --
iced out grills shining silver in the blank stare of
The impartial partial moon. Even the dumpster got in
On that crazy ghetto action. Mouth gaping like a yawn
Big, black sacks of filth are frosted
like gingerbread -- a scene
straight out of Martha's Book. And still
the gems are falling from velvet reaches,
staining my eyes with burning crystals.
I am Little Red, with my hands full of goodies
And my legs are candy canes out of season, but still
Quite in festive colors for the February blues.
I wonder now if I am due for a repeat.
I am tense but not for feelings, rather, the memory
is a serrated needle in my hollow cheek.
I fill that chasm with my round tongue,
Eager to be the brand new wolf.