Dead at the center

A cigar box grand edifice

Chrome shined relic drowned

By zeros and ones

I walk these burnt umber tiles

Under the blueness of fluorescents

Through jungles of dumb canes

Tip-toeing around ghosts of Orange Julius

From big boxes half empty

Past shadow boxes of retail past

Side stepping kiosk eruptions,

Searching (no I don’t want a shoe shine)

Questing (gummy grapefruit yes please)

Crusading for my own Holy Grail

A pair of jeans that fit