Where to Walk

All the holy places, caved in
like the brains of those who spent
their lives maintaining them,
were never more than limestone.

All the telescopes in outer orbit
will be forgotten and what they see
will fade off into the distance
as the explosion fires on until it can’t.

The comics with saliva covered mics
in all the orange light out on that stage
get only stared at when they try
to make a mockery of anything they can.

The disappointed audience checks
their balances and parking receipts
by the slowly dying sidewalk trees
while they pull coats over exposed skin
headed home again.

Two homeless guys slept below
a metal bridge until one woke up
the other to exclaim about a drug
induced epiphany.

Everything will change tonight

He told him with an echo
off the damp road
and the other man
just answered
with a knife point
and some warm blood,
there for anyone.

The patches on their tattered coats
like prophecies fulfilled
and then repeated to
a point of pure stupidity.
They were mostly from
old concerts and military units
where they neither;
killed, were killed,
or understood.

Now both coats belonged to one man
and he did not believe in anything,
except where to walk,
to not get crushed
and left there.