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Plaza Daydream

20 Mar

maybe if I just sit here
seated in this cushioned chair
and let go of all that fastens–
in a few moments, it’ll begin
to vanish. Shelves of rubbish for sale,
concrete hives, an asphalt iron-maiden
that tars the earth black, sparkling shops
all arranged to deceive and lure
to stir the senses with fat desires
that entrance, to zombify people
into blank-eyed consumers who jostle
for more & more, –want –want –want
to wipe the radiance of the sun off
their upturned faces
replaced by billboards of whited teeth,
and slender muscled objectified bodies
all for sale & few persons care anymore
for growing things – but doesn’t anyone
want the grass to sprout irregular again?
… with violet, white, and yellow-flowered
weeds? – the bees are dying off for lack
of these, yet no one is on their knees
crying out for their genocide while I
sit and wait…
a tear splashes the tile

..

.

© Brian Hodgkinson Jr. (aka) The Limericist 2021

 
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Posted by on March 20, 2021 in Poetry

 

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