Shells

The universe spreads out
so automatically.
The gasoline pools across
the floor followed by
rapid flame eating
the white paint on the walls
collapsing door frames
into onyx black remains.

Giants of the ages
grab red deer
by the antlers
and lock their eyes
together sending out
a message to the forest.

The young buy butane
and fold out chairs
with low wage allowances
unable to embark
on any quests
to see the world beyond
the panels on the metal
fence they piss on
in the alley
where they ruminate
on fucking, death, or killing.

Where the sand colored
sedans of burnt out
lecturers and typists
fill the shattered lots
of business parks
and fuck off pay me
campuses.

Punches land on broken
teeth and jaws
among the unpainted
baseball diamond
at the back corner of the park.
Where a lone figure
in a white jumpsuit
and a ball cap with a crimson brim
power washes statues of the dead.

Out where this opens
to an empty beach,
a young girl builds a castle
in the sharpened sand,
and as if only by imagining
she reignites the empty lighthouse
without meaning to.