Alcaniz Street

cars in the sky flying by rubber throbbing along, over the concrete and blistering blacktop riding in and out the painted lines over the dull colored snatches of raggedy wigwams scattered about beneath the shadows and shades of the great strips of interstate with their festering trails of fetid strewn trash piles of trash folks, and failed cynics. half - ass cynics who can't cut that final tie to those lingering inclinations of signs seen and understood. inferred to the good wanting others to hand over their small change and I stacking blocks across the eyeless sockets of a thick brick skinned fossilized shrine sweating like a pig in the late october heat wondering where the hell the fall is