Desolation Alley

a weak light rises over the chimneys

the grass is the colour of piss

smog prises its fingers into bronchial lungs

a dog with three legs barrels down the street

curtains stained with inquisitive glances

stare out at the paperboy on a rusty bike

a cat crawls under a red Cortina parked on bricks

November exhales a grey breath on the windows

inside

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