a door no one has used
upside down boxes from greener pastures
flies are swarming into one another
an aging pile of cigarette butts
amidst the garbage strawberry bushes bloom
two men passing a skinny joint
someone is calling my name loudly
the tomato plant stretching towards sunlight
jars of used vegetable oil sweating
conversation with men two yards away
accidental backyard group of sorts developing
nodding in response to something unheard
those things will kill you. hopefully.
written behind the restaurant at work
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