altered skylines

a seemingly endless
exposition of accidents
in construction zones
turning half hours into
hours of frustrated wonder
creeping forward in
car lengths toward another
fruitless adventure in
random futility while
the sun glares without
a hint of warmth over
the chaos of cities
in transitional agony

i am parked in a small
town bank parking lot
a picturesque clock tower
obscured by a strech hummer
a symbol of affluent waste
tearing the fabric of
quaint americana into strips
of homogenized daydreaming
an overcompensation of
impossibility taking up
half a block of parking
for no better reason than
to project a false air of
class in tasteless abundance

hunter chased the corpse
of the melting pot only to
wake up with the knowledge
his mental faculties were
in the midst of steep decline
so he tore his ticket and
took himself from the
ever churning ant farm before
the fan became so congested
with the shit we had flung
crossing over from tenuous
to a comical state of disbelief
a parody of existence in
clumsy brush stroked denial

trading in actual value for
monuments to excess that are
refinanced into indentured
servitude to a dream that
never was more than propaganda
created to keep the worker bees
docile to the whims of a queen
so detached from the reality
of the struggles of living
in a dying world where only
the top one percent can breathe
without rigid bands squeezing
their bank accounts of every
last blood scented penny

widening lanes to make room
for bigger trucks that serve
no purpose in urban living
and long limosuines lining
the picturesque downtown of
snall towns dreaming of an
influx of jaded cityfolk
seeking to get away by
bringing all of their baggage
to alter the skylines with
glowing signs of obediance
to the masters of commerce
pushing the pieces in a game
the peasants couldn’t comprehend

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