Bathos and defeat.

Battles lost, ceded.

Amid others ease,
crumble with your
untold stories.

The tiles of these hotel lobbies
have that endless
stop-sign edge
that can hold
a wasteland of
attention at bay.

Before all other time-kills
there was the 1000-yard stare
ceaselessly horrifying
both gazer and gazee

The squares on the floor of admitting
will be octagonal soon, too.

Aggie will like my chartreuse sundress

I should have done my dishes.

I cede them now.