| Hesse
in Worcester
The city is a micro-cosmism of a new era of Steppenwolves
Droughts between eons of smirking cell phone calls to object “bitches,” while standing between
buildings that were built in 1890…stained erections where the old walk with the
young.
Each either ignoring or terrorizing the other.
The smells of youthful death and aged life seep thorough every zit and wrinkled pore.
Dresses worn too long.
Pants too big.
Loud bass guitars streaming from chrome cars.
Silent Mozart plays in musty elder’s homes.
In the middle stand latitudes of social dismemberment.
Observing, always observing…never succumbing to normalcy.
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