City Faces

We take ourselves wherever we go . . .


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So tired of passing by these city faces,
The groans of the undiscerning making babies,
Pulling triggers,
Spending and dying spent,
Their expensive books covered with dust,
The fine china dinner plates cracked,
Photographs of exquisite parties yellowed.
Faces passed with eyes never looked at,
Staring at feet, each making love in separate dreams
To separate ideas of what those dreams may mean
And I with my own idea of what "I" may mean
And fearing your face, beloved, confused
When I tell the truth after drinking,
Fearing the drinking and what anything may mean.