The main thoroughfare
is loaded with the confused:
those who have,
those who want.
Some faces are of stone,
looking down from pedestals,
only seeking
to satisfy their palettes
with frivolous trinkets.
Others are red, blown-out,
swollen from the runoff
that collects in their beds.
Both polar ends of humanity’s spectrum
congregate here,
pleading with their eyes.
They throw themselves to the dogs,
the iridescent, fluorescent
stone and iron giants.