Monolith
---
This city blocks with knockless doors
and ringless phones
and clocks with too many hands.
Its days stretch longer than post office lines
or the wait for a package that never arrives
on time
if ever.

This city wakes by "Morning"
monologued.
Divorcees consult their empty pantries
and ask the jars of marmalade to brunch.
With coffee grounds they strike up conversations.
Refrigerator doors make willing dancing partners
that don't involve a risk of self disclosure.

This city nights with vacant rooms and empty beds.
Weekend evenings filled by printed skin
its balding men play peek-a-boo alone
renting video imaginary friends.

This city sits and drinks its meals detached.
Amidst its filled tavernas
drinking, floating islands
hold bottled S.O.S. in hand.
Longing for each castaway his rescue.

This city filled with nameless next door neighbors
with silent rides in elevators
void of all acknowledgment or greeting.

Buildings filled by hallways never crossed

by phones that never ring, and doors that never knock.

Urban grid of isolate collective