Plastic crates nailed together
made up the legs of the table.
I remember them from when
I opened up my eyes after
a night of little sleep
there in the winter.
Getting up early was worth it
for the people just passing through,
there was so much to do
between the house up on the hill
or the city that spread so far
from every side of it.
Merchants hollowed out
the insides of a movie theater
to sell whatever junk they had
in front of deadened screens.
In the parking lot chicken
was grilled and delivered to all
who sought it out, impaled
on wooden sticks, the warmth
gave so much comfort
under those overcast cold
long forgotten skies.
Long Forgotten Skies
Teleporting Typewriter 