Puke on the streets. Purple fleece,
after a night of nights, finds himself
new to the uncertain. Winter coming.
Purple ribbon unraveling like the future
plans. A temporary dream put on hold
by down economic reality, cravings
or lost hope. Out come the hoses.
Up comes the mighty son, and as a collective,
we try it all again. Hope through rays. Promise.
I promise. What are you going to do about it?
Good question. Have no answer for you.
Downhill to Pike, turn right. Step carefully
my son. Daybreak.