Getting The Hint

Welcome to the ghettos
A hundred and four square people
Cracking like donut boxes inside
Come along for the ride
Or maybe the concrete leaves figments
Like the steam from smokestacks
And leaves you hovering
Abandoned in a corn field
Wondering where the people and rooms
Have melted under the ground
Stand up! Look around!
Kids are scribbling their names
Until ink drips from the rusted gutters
The easels sing sad syncopated rhythms
To the top floors of buildings
Where windows wait wide open
Ready to crash to the ground
And swallow you like breath mints
You getting the hint?