Masses of plastic and steel
Sitting here in suburban Bohemia
Trendy music echos in rafters
My elders march through
Past darkened storefronts
Embracing the silence of the zone.
Sheltered from the sky
Whether dry, cold or kind
Like now, clouds filter sunlight
The air chilled, night’s influence
Lingering like the memory of dreams.
At the edge I wait as
Automotive druids perform
Arcane rites, resurrecting
A weary shell of steel and plastic
Coffee’s tang upon my tongue