Dead at the centerA cigar box grand edificeChrome shined relic drownedBy zeros and ones I walk these burnt umber tilesUnder the blueness of fluorescentsThrough jungles of dumb canesTip-toeing around ghosts of Orange Julius From big boxes half emptyPast shadow boxes of retail pastSide stepping kiosk eruptions,Searching (no I don’t want a shoe shine)Questing (gummy grapefruit

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