roses

Night after Valentine's, 10:35 Inside the Indigo in LA Live From my fifth-floor window I noticed An old man Holding a patterned umbrella, peddling old Roses Leftovers from yesterday's cliches Petals straying from the corolla, only to die by isolation Colors faded, not as bright Stigmatized and undesired...expired But still that old man Standing in the road with His bag of old roses At the red light hoping, to catch a hopeless romantic's Dead eyes rolling Who's knowing, maybe they blew it, maybe it's just nonexistent Either way it's overdue and Love is oversaturated Opposite of those old roses Those dark, dry, ugly, worn-out thorns-out Might as well be posers roses Those roses Those ones I feel are the closest