Lone Route

There is not enough crack on the
corner nor enough stoic bleeding hearts
Not too many angry benches. Ding!
This stop belongs to no one, so we go.
On and on till, some would say, the
break of dawn. No. Not enough
level headed hormonal women who
pride themselves on brilliant children
and dry hamburger helper.
Help her! screamed the party of three
watching that lone cracked out corner.
The bleeding heart they believed in was
neither bloody nor stoic. Ding!
This stop belongs to no one, so we go on.
On and on and on. Because, some would
say, there is no last stop.