A row of cars facing the street from a dark gravel turn out. One dim light on the side of power generator building. A flock of smiling faces, light bouncing off the reflection of broken glass. Baseball bats, golf clubs, crowbars, & sledge hammers. A shot glass placed on a telephone for a birdie. A toilet sparking into the camera for absent to take interwb pleasure. This is an army of angry, a herd of unheard, a symphony of waste, as glitter into foggy evening mist. A sole train rides by on top the hill, and freakishly peer into each car, glad to see nothing to remind us.