Tuesday, June 4, 2024

Anarchy Logos (At The Food Court)

Black purses
hang from
slender, pale
shoulders.
Lips wrap 
around
plastic straws.
Studded belts
glimmer
in
fluorescent light.
They walk past
like
lions
stalking
the jungle.
I rub
my eyes
and wander out
into
summer heat.
I drift 
through a
parking lot
and dream
of
new weekends
and
hazy,
unknown nights. 

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