EXHIBITIONS
There was the one in the storefront
That once was a salon
Where the few who attended
Headed straight for the wine
And the one in a coffeehouse
On a street lined with bars
Where teens wore tattoos
Full of serpents and skulls
And the one in the basement
Of the residence of the mayor
Of a deserted steel town
Where gunshots filled the night
And the one in the showroom
That used to feature cars
Where the children of the artist
Drew flowers on the floor
AFTER THE FIRE
I remember taking the bus
Every day to jobs where I’d work
With ex-cons and alcoholics
Watching dead landscapes pass by
Vacant lots behind chain-link fences
Desolate as deserted graveyards
And sometimes a row of houses
Where every window was broken
That stared out like cold, grey skulls
For the captains of industry had left us
To rot under vulture-filled skies
While they searched for easier prey
MILK CRATES
They line the sidewalks
Like abdicated thrones
Left there by monarchs
Of forsaken realms
Who’d sit there with cups
Frozen to themselves
As the world that passed by
Faded slowly to grey
Now they are empty
These seats that once held
Ghosts of humanity
With no place to haunt
But soon there will come
The next ones to be
The invisible outcasts
Shadows in the sun
No comments:
Post a Comment