His frappuccino heartache and stuff.
The sun setting boring again.  
Some band, a lame IPA, and more BBQ shit. 
You confess to forgetting what pleasure means. 

The sun setting on Starbucks.
Neighborhood shopping in a neighborhood
where it’s cool to live, which means most people
live in some editorial of deleted space.

Not being able to afford anything 
in 20 or 30 different photos. 
The price of a single jalapeno. 
Another apartment. A huge crane.   

Suburbia is misery’s head
ache. Dinner with the parents.   
He cries Titos in the driveway.  
It never rains.

You win the + lottery with a pregnancy test 
and move, happily, to Toledo.