24 Jan 2016 – Sleep-Walkers’ Cinema

Sleep-walkers’ cinema,
nightly these screenings:
brick-broken bus stations –
featureless, petrified.
Replaying horrors:
stranded here countless nights,
plenty of pocket change,
no tickets out of town.
None come. None going.
Only your shadow moves,
you are the mayor now,
city of empty lots.

Sleep-walkers’ cinema –
no will for waking.
High tides examine you,
turning you slowly
and finding you wanting,
flinging you silently
over the shoulder.
Meanings’ consignment shop.
You? Broken toaster,
stripped of your heating coils,
missing a price tag.
Danger no longer.