Walking amidst the

ancient ruins we forget 

that we'll share their fate 

A face emerges 

from the crowd and suddenly

the past is present 

Don't let the crooked

barker break you on the wheel 

of grave misfortune 

Bodies of plastic

and minds of broken glass make

for perfect flunkies  

Sometimes bittersweet 

is better than cloying and 

ache outshines cheer

Cursed blinking cursor

mocks the moldy mind that can't 

create a bon mots 

Fling certitude from

your window and hope for a 

better tomorrow