same old pilgrim frontier

still the shuffling masses;
crowding onto buses,
waiting in post office lines;
the china man in ski vest,
quarter naked teeny boppers,
down syndrome,
suit and tie,
headphones,
a never before seen mustache,
smell of patchouli and beer,
all tapestrified;
the tree stump eyes droop.
clouds dance heavy now.
stoic buildings crumble.
dreams behind wasted eyes;
all  pining for dawn’s car wash.