Anonymous Avenue

Portrait of a forlorn street

Latex faces, shadowy places;
Alleyway corner's neon glow.

Wet cool brick of apathetic
desire, peeking out the eyehole
of a handle-less black door.

Damp clothesline ballerina dance,
the clothespinned colors closed in, orange
peach fuzz sunrise sneaks, neglected
ashen eyelids creak, deflected
frosty mumbled breeze encases
the forlorn clutch
of tangled vines.

Blinds torn down, window's naked
cyan walls await.
The road's littered with potholes
filled with gravel
shattered, mixed.

Dreams fell from window slits inched open
just a sliver, 'til, packed and forgotten,
they lined the sidewalk's jagged cracks, seeping
into the roots of clovers 
crushed under soles and dirt and
heavy sighs.