stillfugue

I’m not playing no games.
Pulsing stars flow through alleyways,
mark our fateful tracks.
Escape stairs rattle
incessantly.
We kick empty cans.
Sun screams in frustration
at our persistently dark playground.
Exposed, we march like the Chinese Army.
T-shirt flaps in window with big crack.
Upside down mountains carry us to the ferryman.
We sail far away
on stripped Roman structures
with roofs with gentle angles
and stately presence.