~All The Little Creatures Of Glass City

They built this ghost town
before there were any ghosts.
Large glass canyons
where the wind whistles,
drawing dust and smoke
into whirling devils.
Reflections bouncing
from linear surfaces.
Where once there was life
there is none.

You pull a coat,
tightly, against your chin
and comment on the chill air
that scrapes way
at exposed flesh,
like a carnivorous
vampire keen to taste
the fresh warm blood
Pulsing Pulsing Pulsing
at your throat.

Empty ‘Welcome’ desks
under fluorescent light
that makes everything
so flat and uninteresting.
A hint of occupation -
just a single can of Coke
sitting on the floor
inside the locked sliding door.
Everything deserted,
on this Sunday afternoon.

Why do planners
create blueprints
of a dream
at the expense
of communities
who lived their lives
in horizontal pleasure?
Vertical cloud dwellers -
buzzing contentedly
in their glass hives.

They called it Guild Gate
and it shone in the sun
when the cranes drove away.
But now, on this pale afternoon,
there is no sign of life
because the people
didn’t come to live the dream.
Or maybe I missed
the apocalypse
while I was distracted.

A fly
crawls up
the smooth surface,
then disappears
in the flick of a tongue
from an unseen
Salamander
nestled
in its hole
of black glass

Inspired By: photograph by Richard Nixon (c) Rich Pictures

https://www.facebook.com/richpicturesphotography