Urban Stew

By: Andi V.D. Berge

California blankets- soggy, a week expired

They say one man’s trash is,

Well- it might be asylum.

We wait,

in a dust jungle.

Resting and reading

our shelter, around the Mulligan stew.

Carcass for marrow, onion scraps for a punch

We wait.

Then we haul-

with haste, locomotive

Displacement.

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