Rise and Fall

Criminal waste, critical mass materialized warfare city dumps pile-up and fall burnt offerings amid clumps of Caesar salad. Roman Empires of crud that roam no more. Walmart still spills over, parachutes hung from pot-belly roofs; air-drops from a plastic heaven. A few old men are found asleep at the wheel of long buried cars. Homeless are the pigeons that carry a crusty canker from pit to heap, pitiful the pawing fingers that pounce now upon the once new branded, yet more paltry the poached mounds of porch-pirates, their petty ill-gottens all unpacked alike as empty nests. When the sooty dark fumes and blankets, then rust will clang in the yawping mouths of tin-cans, aluminum bells that clatter. Then the rodents, the red-eyed night-shifters will comb through the tangled beards of threadbare dreams. Then withal, just as the ditched dross have fallen, dregs shall rise again.