walking through a big box store

 


people move by me
like dead fish floating on
top of diseased water

the vapid expressions

the empty well of
eyes

thoughts as hollow as
rotting logs

anonymous days
passing through
unremarkable lives

the air stank of
conversations
dying of boredom

fear catching in
my chest

where are the
poets?

where are the
artist?

where are the
dreamers?

where did they
go?

what happened
to them?

what happened
to us?