(20 minute poetry)


Time becomes another line
that
sits deep upon my face

centrally located
suffocated by the mass
of
those who then would pass by me
without a single glance.

Each day strips off the day before
a peep show that I've seen and
in somewhat less than awe
I find I have to look.

People
pinioned by their lack of care
I know it
because
I've been there

never watched nor seen those
Inbetween
stepped over the cracks in
worn down steps,

let's hear it for the blind men
who can see
but are
unkind men
let's hear it for them
after all
aren't we those kind
men too?