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
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