The sink filled.
Droplets slowly releasing from the faucet’s molding mouth,
minute by minute,
creating ripples that spread and graze the very corners of the toothpaste-stained bowl.
The streets bare,
desolate, besides a lone tennis ball that bounces down a sunkissed sidewalk, the neon blending together with the vibrance the rays echo down.
Bubbles burst through the air with each bung. a man,
his knees bent, staring at all that lays beneath him,
a balcony that exists purely for relief suspended in the air the ceiling fan in his bedroom twisting slowly,
its power dwindling until it comes to a halt.
Synchronized doves that paddle through the sky with their open hands.
stark, so stark,
that the people must admire,
as they perch themselves on the edges of their roofs,
their shoulders cloaked with textured shawls to protect them from the outside.
