the no-lookers

^

had it been the just gods wearing sunglasses,
the baggy shorts that loom with shadows
covering their knees. had it been the repository
of sandals amidst the sand-splashed cross-walks...
imprints, laughter and the dogma or climate,
perhaps here the pavement would never be dry,
the glossa of insects would hang from the roadside,

a sudden turn of fashion.

it was the past that crept by, while we,
the peasant cloaks divided our words
with photos of descendants whose time
had yet to flee their hearts.