As I walk down the street
I greet the wall getting closer
Trails of unwanted trash,
Loitering my space,
Blowing towards my  face,
The walking dead stumbling
Falling to the ground,
Going in and out of 
A state of serene profound,
Garbage all around,
Young boys open a head shop
Five dollars a pop
At the Asian take out,
selling dreams in a tube,
Ladies of the night
climbing any one in sight,
For a minute plight,
Twelve year olds birthing 
O month olds,
Pushing up and down 
Making that little girl giggly sound,
Stench from the Asian store 
Deep frying meat that
Shouldn’t be used any more,
And I stand here
Feeling  like 
Edgar Allan Poe
For ever more.