more like a blade of grass slicing my throat
parked down in rainier valley~ i took a whole lotta photos in the hope that i would get to meet the original owner~
wearing a brown cardigan with a bushy white chops and faded finger tattoos
pushing a shopping cart full of cupcakes and tall boy cans cartons of cigarets ~ ham sandwiches and some weird shit in his eye
she never came out side~ she was probably watching me from behind the glass of storefronts and oxygen masks calling me names under wheezy breath
while i waited in parking lots for visions of the late 1960's sparkle fade drift and blur~
into the very nothingness of somebody else and their yesterdays crowned in memories~
but ! ain't that a sweet rearend !
too bad we all can't drive. . . the dream
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