another dreary day
in the back half
of a city
covered in grime
the boarded up windows
of strip clubs
adult shops
and small stores
that once
accumulated dreams
gone
to out of business signs

he sits
in front of the pump
as a line of cars
forms behind him
yet
he pays no heed to them
as he shovels
the breakfast burrito
into the gaping maw
of incalculable
self absorption
of the morning
he cannot bear
to begin

alone i sit
in this graveyard
of former business
waiting
for the dinosaur bones
required
to earn the slivers
of paper
that once represented gold
but now
just represents
indentured servitude
to an ideal
that feels less ideal
daily