As I sit staring blankly out the
window
sadly scarred tops of trees gently dip
to meet my gaze
              my feet, bare feet
worn as an old pair of sneakers

Her mom, or grandma is in the hospital
             what the hell am i supposed to say to that
nothing really
back to the trees, back to the room
then, back to the trees again.
             I wonder what spewing industrial complex created the rain
to **** these trees
          
This morning was brisk, fall is coming

she keeps looking at me
whatever
dandruff falls like needles off the turning pine from the portly boys head in front of me