iwalkalonelyroad (The Boulevard)

How are we such
ambassadors of
isolation, only segregated by
arbitrary spaces?

How does this
hell of occupying
make a living
preaching ostracization?

How can your boulevards not meet at my front yard?
Why are avenues
I choose
often so

Will your scenery ever collude with the land I own,
its buried bones,
dilapidated homesteads
unwieldy ghosts?

It gets especially
after dark;

acrimonious footsteps
scare away the larks of my
compromised heart,

petty larceny all its own.

I walk a lonely road,
as the song so often goes,
hoping to meet a likewise soul with whom
I’ll consume the prose of
chrome yellow sunsets and
all the noise
that I own,
drowned out in favour of the
only sickness that
I have


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