brooding over
a garden of
plastic flowers
lamenting the
lack of bees
the eagles hang
frozen above
the highway in
the throes of a
perpetual state
of construction
stopping off in
small towns
barely blips
on the i-35
corridor under
the merciless
sun baking the
brown flat land
between dallas
and hillsboro
everything is
just a flawed
veneer covering
static transmissions
white noise
with spaces shaped
like cartoon
hearts deflating
while trapped
between vacillating
states of
depressed dismay