SHOPPING

past the breath of consciousness and common sense past the counter and the yellow line they stand comparing watches, sunglasses and hats, posing, checking the curves at the mirror for show, and what shouldn’t, voicing opinions to the beat of groans and moans, becoming bored they file out laughing at nothing        

FALLEN ANGELS

Railroad cars rattle to an uncomfortable stop.  The heartless metal boxcars release a few late night traveling souls. The aroma of pitch and diesel fuel permeates cool air.  Chameleon eyes survey temporary grounds for displaced scarecrows.  Torn outer coats, shirts without buttons, uneasy hats all possess that insistent hunger common to all. They walk to … More FALLEN ANGELS