Town

by Florence Meade

Engines groan, urging and streets sigh
Fight and win or lose and die
White frames and harsh lights for the new under glass
Dirty mouths and dark shadows for the old in the underpass
Bodies sat in chairs, chattels hanging, wired in
No-one knows the future but they keep on spinning
Vigilant faces scan the melee
Empty hearts that make their way
Check in on themselves once in a blue moon
How do you feel? Who are you?

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