She was perfect
in every flaw.
He was hopeless
but looking up.
Just your average
sad sack couple
born of hard shell
fecal magnificence
festering around a chicken shit
suburban core.
This early morning quiet
remembrance
waxes my ears, sears my mind
silly.
Through it all
the sun still she rises
and the crows collect payment,
mockingly.
The Walmart Empire
finds its footing
even as our sad sacks fade
into avocado
deep pile purgatory,
their dancing days short-lived
yet so sour sweet.
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