Lockstep in Our Streets
she’s in the back booth of a cafe on main street out of the way
drinking coffee watching people writing things down
the air ticks and hums with secret conversations
a lady nearby is pretending to read but looks up often
at the final episode of democracy on the tv screen
liberty huffing and puffing gasping between light and dark
outside boots are thundering on the pavement
marching into a fresh new hell dark road rumbling beneath
We’re in chaos crumbling trumped up power
a red-bearded preacher man from the hills a wild look in his eyes
stands in the park at the playground’s edge thirsty for attention
beside him a crooked plume of smoke from books burning in a barrel
these are madmen on the loose bending to the shiny machine
newspapers arrive with their careless stories
truth smacked down evil well funded
the sun has fallen and rolled away
all the flowers have beheaded themselves
handcuffs are on trees birds have ceased pumping their wings
all the blue has been squeezed out of the sky
the sea has turned her old face away
fish knock against the windows of drowned ships
i carry my passport with me these days
i now know what it’s like to want to leave my country
my country to say it is half begging half joke
drinking coffee watching people writing things down
rigid lockstep in our streets their boots the echo of my typing keys