Asphalt Lunch
Ravaged fast-food bags thrown by the way
French fries lumped or scattered
Bits of bread and ketchup, maybe a pickle.
The paper will blow
Or some good soul will pick it up
But the fragments of food fill the bellies
And clog the arteries of the innocents.
The city birds feast.
Copyright © Lark Pogue | Year Posted 2018
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