poem #9
I often wonder about death in the city by the sea. For many, it is nothing. A mere roadblock in the daily happenings. Someone will see a sack in the bad part of town. Length about six foot, weight of a thirty year old. Ambulances are called, and it is gone. It’s the doctor’s problem now. People continue on the road, Until the next body is found. Maybe it’s from a gunshot, A stabbing, A poisoning. It could be poor, It could be rich. A squabble over drugs or money or women or religion. But the body is never identified. Time goes on in the city by the sea. It’s involuntary, an inevitable. Bodies on the road are left lying until found, and are forgotten again until the next one comes. Then there are the helpless. The city is transient, But not for the stubborn old, Who sit alone, Watching the city pass them by, ...
