L.A. | Brother Andres Maria of the Cross

Stagnant concrete tickles the sky
Bulbs of darkness hide the light
Fumes of greed glide by
With immoral bums;
Getting us
Repulsively high.
The smell of business
Roasts the lovers nose!
Drunken fools look down on you.
The disgusted pilgrim, picking
The trash.
Knowing the sinister waste of the rich
Is edible
Incredible
The sad moon wants to light
Our way
But man made clouds make it opaque
And this beauty;
Now so vague.

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