I walk,
pace,
and search.
styrofoam cups
caked in spoilt dairy.
but rather,
Bacardi rolls
in the key
of E minor.
you appreciate no sadness
while I anticipate
a respectable shunning.
gates of steel
and shutters bright green.
structural integrity.
your dream,
in one square mile.
so indulge me,
in stories without a plot.
tell me,
where I’d fit in.
*Cat No. 21 of the 500 Cats Project