Looking back,
the bench that bore Destiny's name
was aptly placed:
in front of a rundown rental
parked next to a liquor store
The bench, Destiny
was frequently visited
by drunks with brown-bagged bounty
whose temporary presence
smothered the rose print
They emptied their bottles
and souls
into Destiny,
then left their debris,
ragged scraps
and broken glass,
as though that had always been
Destiny's fate
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