It’s big and empty

Dark and quiet

I see blacks

and reds

and purples

and greens

No oranges

though yellows

and if some purples then

there must be some blues

…Those thin carpets

spread over stapled

from floor to wall to ceiling

It’s so rough like stubble

and cosmetic but for what

The seats all stand empty

all fixed-up but for one

It smells like old crayons

crammed into a little tin box

that’s age-worn and rusted

with peeled wrappers

and shaved wax

grated wax

melted wax

construction paper

And broken leads

dried up ink

things like that

Oh and scotch tape

It smells like scotch tape…

And so where are you going?

I see you slinking

in the back seats

I know what you’re doing

there in the shadows

I see sparks flicker…

But where are you going?

I want to know now

so please tell me

Old songs play

and they feel the same

Smells you can hear

sounds you’ll imagine

And a memory dings

I remember it so well…

But where are you going?

I see you slinking

in the back seats

I know what you’re doing

I see it happening…

But where are you going?

I want to know now

so please tell me…

Don’t white this out