Friday, September 16, 2011

Losing the Lorax

Could you spare some tin
for this pint of blood?
I've locked my keys inside
searching for a spare can of tuna

The pavement cracks
support the grickle grass
Little piles of fine gravel
an ant hill making sand
in the sea of asphalt

Boxes are melting on the other side
of the window
Shelves are covered in dust
and an old box of plastic cutlery rusts.