Murphy’s Produce does not inspire
confidence in their Melons.
What you meant to say
you meant to say “Lemons.”
But either will do in a pinch.
In a blender.. Neither really
belong in this poem. This
poem is about buildings
fallen into disrepair. About
Murphy. About his sepia produce
stand. About gasoline pumps
no longer in use. And windows
broken and sinking
like shipsails sinking
below the water.
Into dusk.

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