On Kansas Avenue
most buildings stand vacant;
their disuse is not unusual.
Time is cheaper than the wrecking ball
and so they slouch along the skyline, still:
the landfill of opportunity.
Unfazed on the curbside, I go on
drinking bum wine like I have something to celebrate.
No Western Meadowlark sings for me,
but some Thunderbird might know my personal state song.
– Timothy Volpert
