There are no heroes, only gritty survivors
with take-no-prisoner attitudes:
stranded, abandoned, unraveled & revealed.
A sharp salvo of pity-seeking pleas hits deaf ears,
then dissipates into an unforgiving atmosphere,
silent radar restored to street corner tranquility.
Help is a matter of interpretation under pressure,
the little pains that annoy and undermine,
a collective signal that builds in frequency over time.
Hiding in the mud, become the sand eel of dreams,
reeling & writhing & ‘rithmetic,
sad years beyond any classroom experience.
The sweat salt of humanity’s dregs,
sparkling like stars fading in afternoon sun,
shimmering through a collective disappearance.