I’d rather

I’d rather sit where no one has sat, to consume empty thoughts on a corner of a broken block. 
Pillars of trees, cascade and fade into dark. Weeping over wooden wrinkled benches, pressed against white picket-fences. 
Flowers flow farther than the eye can see. But greedy green grass, keeps them in captivity. 
I’d rather consume the avenue be it parallel or perpendicular. Than the streets and alleyways of a city sinned in florescent fixture. 
Green the passers and let them flow. Yellow me aside, and red them ago. 
I’d rather wither in my consumption and digest. What might mend the street that comes to a dead end.