Nana-cat

Peace signs carved Like bullet holes Into battered brick walls On the corner, Kids gather around A nameless man, A statistic lying in the gutter, A target for superior social status Who has no voice in The long scheme of things, If you can believe Fox News The buildings loom out of shadows cast by Old sodium streetlights, Orange moons that Illuminate potholed arteries Trampled by sneakered feet and Shattered glass What dimly-lit cubicle crow's-nest Casts its eye from on high Through Venetian-blindered lids And scans the world below For signs of life? Don't jump. The police don't like to be bothered.