Little green artichoke
you have met your final day...

I empty another box...
clothes from a different fad...

We sat behind a window that peered into the world,
where every mind passed by...

Above a cheaply plateaued landscape
of dime-a-dozen evergreens...

Sifting through this landscape
stretched far and wide, yet few between...

Under the dim falsified glow
of a lean and towering Eugene street lamp...

Dirty Russians
broken bicyclettes...

A conjunction is...
a simple function...

I woke up this morning
just to pick up the front page...

As i sit in here in mild trepidation
i wonder what lies amidst that stare...

Every little detail of you is left haunting me
like amber dipped embedded coals left embraced...

This is the right step in the wrong direction
i don't think ill ever care...