90: the days

The hours spent
The money spent
The days spent by and by
Another step to climb upon,
another fall to recollect.
Those weeks spent
Those months spent
Those people spent, sit by the curb
awaiting calls that never come as arrogant cars go whizzing by.

The sky greys and darkens with a claustrophobic atmosphere -
Closing in, on us below, us walking on the paved cement
So stable and secure,
How we stroll along so languidly
While the darkness below, ignored and forgotten,
ceases to gain the least of our interest.
We'd rather forget it: the true nature of things,
Of life, of death, of tragedy.