Pascal
They said
Look. And the heads turned
Up and down around searching for air
light faces, hands and legs
wobbling in their sockets
also up and down around
but with no direction at all
no intention no will,
the eyes
a bucket of corn chicken
the mouths move up and down around
corn syrup running
the system is fed up
the more they grow the more they melt
getting around
nearly impossible
the limit, the bodies
yellow on grey
tatoos and ear plugs
music yelling
bright pants and bracelets
the street
Pixelised, bordered
here the fright
here the shop
here the food
here the stairs
what they call a neighbourhood
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| Gary Hill |
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