STILL FRAMES

Night is the last language of day,

full of unspoken wishes while breathing

new words.  Theatres with black and

white movies attract the mysterious;

plenty of empty red velvet seats.

Stained concrete steps descend into the

veins of subways.  Under examined

street art is worth less than the paint.

 

Crisscrossing pedestrians stream past like

lazy pond fish.  The curious scroll down

outside restaurant menus, pointing without

comment.

 

The street is full of trespassers.  They attempt

to alienate themselves from gathering while there

eyes are fences of resistance.

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