hands thrust deep into the small universe of his pockets where secret things hide
crossing pathways of the silent city complicated girder patterns chase his passing
avoiding those who would threaten conservation by crossing diagonal trackways
peddling the shoe leather of tomorrows heel-bar in puddles of yesterdays dreams
headlamps light up hopeless faces as they try to escape their blue screen TV lives
the nearly men squeezed by the lemon juicers of hot offices and endless numbers
lives glimpsed through curtain gaps promise better times and quickly snatched away
trying desperately to break through the glass ceiling of self imposed hopelessness
faceless in their crowds who fill trains and cross bridges merging into singularity
walking until daylight looms crows of conscious reality trapped in a beggars dream...