we recycle cardboard
                        newsprint & dreams
          here on the threshold
                       of oblivion

          fog drifts across the highway
          the dark river mutters
          dark heron laughs symbolically

          we are the faces of america
                       in disrepair
          we are the missing pieces
                       of the puzzle

          fluorocarbons in our lungs
          a sour wind telling tales we disregard
          dark heron conversing with the dour river

          we are the remnants of hope
                       all in a tangle
          not even bohemian
                       in our struggles

          frost on the wind
          steam swirling from rusting metallic vents
          dark heron disappears into icy fog
 
 

           Kenn Mitchell
            © 11:14:92