recounting a short walk

this poem could have easily been called composition of a city.

recounting
a short walk

and mangled mechanics
on a rustic track

we’re headed into oblivion
we don’t know how to get
anywhere else
but this place

cracking pavement, a
baby in a dumpster

raw sewage taints the air
near a tree a few feet from here

i wrapped myself under the sheets
that were filled with my own sweat

awoke in a fit of anger
i haven’t seen a falling leaf (in years)