The Pipeline – a sonnet by R L Raymond

he ground the filthy ephemera
into powder fine enough for snorting
the pitted heel of his oxblood oxfords
a pestle to the sidewalk’s rough mortar

flyers for resurrected punk rock bands
trash tabloids with inscrutable headlines
translucent fast-food wrappers discarded
garbage bits blown into piles at his feet

it was a dry day
it would carry far
it would reach them all

the stoners
the ignorant
the obese

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