Cigarette butts on the ground. <br />Someone has been smoking here. <br />Tribes of neighbours chuckling in disharmony, <br />aware only of conformity. <br />We echo adjectives at one another. <br />Flash teeth in empty smiles. <br />Hug in vowels of grass stained hands, <br />........................and so we talk. <br />As we do, we keep opinions vocal. <br />We forget and we remember. <br />Tossing anger at snake-skin purses, <br />..........we become moronic flies on the wall. <br />With no intelligence, we form solutions. <br />Create holes to close our doors. <br />Open the window. <br />But wait, <br />.............the plexiglass has been broken. <br />We are not permitted to wear our own clothes. <br /> <br />I used to marvel at the tones of <br />.....................empty everyone embraced. <br />Alas, it was a useless exercise of stupidity. <br />Every abandoned parking space <br />............................is my definition.<br /><br />Chris G. Vaillancourt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/parking-space-2/
