Melting mozzarella, dripping in grease.
Wet slimy floors.
A carnival in the background.
Taunting those who can no longer be. A part of what was.
As the embassy reigns forth. Feigning territory.
A cold hamburger. A crying child.
Expecting the pace of existence to quicken. To be convenient. Exception. Undertaken by another flourish.
The pennies fly crashing into a place of future solicitations.
Dollar bills crisp now waning into another yester year as global economies fall.
Quicken the dimensional sky. Cloudy gray creeping into the morrow.
Yet a place to meander by when all else fails. To spend a moment in a nondescript room. Cornered walls. Melding into one another. No one notices. Except a few who still remain.