Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2013
Bodies milling about aimlessly-
Seemingly, without purpose;
A lost tribe perhaps.
Whether cultural staple or consumer trap-
Could not be clear:
The Flies themselves, indifferent to this display,
Know all too well, this market place-
Be a meeting hall;
For the fringes of society.
I wrote this on a sales receipt while with a friend at an NPS Store.
It was quite an odd place.
Tommy Sheldon
Written by
Tommy Sheldon  52/M/Western U.S.
(52/M/Western U.S.)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems