Halitosis Bay

Colors of funk whip around the stop lights

Fumes travel like month old asparagus

Bleach and detergent don’t sit well

Dead bodies buried in ancient basements

Conversations stall in the damp corner

Book shelves wail in the dens

Rats scatter in the shape of the branch

A town polluted with synchronized lies

Smaller than a ball point pen

Memorized every decaying neighbor

The stench has dispersed for miles

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