One Room Lives

ONE ROOM LIVES


Amber lights flicker ghostly down
Musty city hallways where
Tenants inflicted with suspicion
Lock themselves behind a womb of walls
All encompassing
Their
One Room
Lives

Retired old men sit somberly
In asphalt parks
Waiting to complete enough hours
To call them
Yesterday

Days when
Looking into their eyes
Was like
Looking into a burned out building
But their stories were often marvelous
Memories alive with days laid to rest
And the silence between each of their voices
Benevolent

And so they live and breathe
Surrounded by the body they possess
Sipping tea with no sympathy
With hours burning slowly
In the pores of their skin
And down through the
Marrow of their bones
Peacefully



Words by John Apice (aka LaStrada)
C-Copyright 1982 House of Apice Poetry