the aerospace building
looks like a
travel agency
from the sidewalk
but as i pass
i notice the hissing
and an angled pipe
slithering from the concrete
as some kind of
compressed gas escapes
the wall, nicotine-stained yellow
like mom’s fingers
grass dances around
the bare patch of earth
below the spewing mouth
and there is a whiff of sulphur
i try to hold my breath
but as i pass
i wonder where that air
is coming from
an employee desiccating lounge
where drones are slowly
dried and their oxygen vented
to the outside world?
some lab where experimental fuels
burn out of control
and in an attempt to save the company
toxic fumes are funneled
to the damned, unsuspecting public?
i quicken my steps
it’s probably just the hvac system
i tell myself
yes, that’s all that it is
Words and Feathers 