
time's so self destructive,
with no intent or motive
drab city, walking past midnight in the grit. where the slicked counter boys stare with disgust, and we sheepishly taste bland. ubiquitous, home to bright lit jersey colors and skinny fitted jean girls with j's. broken glass near smoky dim blue lit interiors, traded for insignificance. brash ill fitted tags by broken glass, curb side breeze by the ice cream shop. we've traded our series, in remembrance of d.c. streets. to try to write, passages of ill conceived nonsense drifting by cheap windows and purple murals.