Absent Deformations

Created: 05/24/2009 03:12:11 AM

The small clouds of white smoke rise and twist
gliding under the street light

I walk the dark, the bright, the dark
on top of sidewalk stones placed by men who watch from beneath them
The earth is the only smell of history left in this town
stacked with polymer restored replicas
an image sold with velvet curtains
and Doors that lead to the empty alley

Other walkers pass by
and greet the shadow man from the 1800's
who hides behind my steps in the silhouette

The forces have pulled the youth from the streets
into the windows and shipped them away

Where is my army?
Where is my youth?

So still and quiet the streets remain
Rivers of longing are locked up behind thick walls
stirring within the skulls of the self contained
wanting to escape the blue strobe-lit windows

No chaos will arise tonight on these broken slabs of stone
No hallucinations of the hot oil lamp, the quiet candles
No reverence will conspire on these dirty streets

If only the dead could walk again tonight...