Benjamin Burke

Bohemian death to the tune of a righteous howl

Or is that silence out there in the streets

Lingering underneath the cacophony of sales receipts

Is that not the familiar smell of indifference

That nasty stain that never scrubs out over time and time

Aren’t those infantile wailings repeated over and over again

Weren’t those words so sweet, too sweet for our tastes now

Is this not a world of salt and order

Pushing its way through the greenery all around

Smashing down on the diamond blue

Is that not you there crying crying for more of something you thought should always be there

Is it not still just not there

Will it ever be

What are all the things that all these people are doing

If not crying and wailing and making angry fists of their own bodies

Curling and twisting writhing in the streets

In all the streets

All the streets

All these streets going somewhere else

All these cubes of formless ways to pass the time

To waste the days

Is there no kind of insurance to buy for the assurance of a life well lived

Was there not nature outside the door

Just outside the door

All this time

Weren’t there eyes watching us all

Wasn’t there some hand waiting in the wings to pull us through if we never made it

Wasn’t there some flight to take

Some thing to make

Wasn’t there some reason we all gathered here today