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Regarding The Walmart Parking Lot On 88th Street

Dad Thighs

The smell of industrial paint and magnolia
Fill the warm summer night air
We reminisce old meadows
Once full of life
Now they’re parking lots
Abandoned shopping carts
Crows picking at discarded wrappers
They were empty and pure
The world hints at our numbered days
And we revel in it

(Creating a perfect bubble to
Be ignorant in
Taking romance as a drug
It’s not only killing me)

We’ve created this crumbling fortress
Now we lie our bodies in this filth

Let it take over
Let it take over