A ghost town lives beneath the skin
Of this metropole.
Abandonment is lodged within
each brick, block and pole
Coughs in the pipes, leaves skidmarks
On the staircase wall
Rustles in the pocket corner remarks
Of your neighbors down the hall.
Mene mene tekel uparsin
Says the Chinese fortune cookie.
Yver is icumin in.
We are all waiting here for delivery.
A pigeon sits on the roof of the burned out cathedral
Here are the horses, child, and here is the steeple.
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