Van Aken Boulevard

A forest-killing nightmare, a daydreamer rocks
to 70s radio hits on a black-and-white
checked basement couch. Not ready 

to face the daylight pocketed
on a patch of carpet a floor above
her head. It’s the smart 

(ass) ones she goes after with a gossamer twined
web she spits into those pipes
running along the ceiling. It doesn’t always stick.

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