• The darkened roads aren’t empty
    in the frozen world of us.
    No, quite the contrary, for
    people lurk everywhere,
    trying to hide the bruises or sin
    that comes again and again
    for eternity. The noise, oh the noise,
    these souls can make
    as we trudge down a street.
    “Virginity for sale!”
    “Fresh innocence, going fast!”
    Occasionally, a wind will pick up
    and carry their aura, burning
    my nose. Who knew the stench of despair
    could be so potent?
    Sometimes there are wishes
    that all the paths could be clear of this filth.
    But then-
    if that happened-
    would anyone of us be left?