It’s a wilderness upriver where
sounds become trapped and lights attempt to
block out the fear of night. Loud music
dispels the spirits of silence while gossipers
gather in corners overlooking their
own sins; a few of the faithful squeeze
some sense from a hymnal.
A smokescreen of shadows suggests the
passing of anxious youths; idle hands
and messages on their hats.
There’s an unexpected divide. Voices
split in two. No one knows who’s winning,
while misfortune from the past is difficult
to forget.
Roger Singer 