Locked up and
Buried beneath a
Pile of discarded rubbish.
Hung out to dry for the world to see.
Stranded on a metal wire,
A metal wire lacking any surplus electricity.
Like some wrought-iron
Just beyond the reach of the sun,
Just feet away from
Howling mouth of the sea.
Taking the carcasses of sun-dried starfish
Back with them.
Leaving behind the scraps of sun-dried tomatoes.
At one point such a guarded figure.
At one point avant-garde.
This ordinarily defensive mechanism.
Now perceived as nothing but an over sized earring,
Hanging from the exhausted ear lobe.
Of forgotten towers.
Whose ancient splinters mimic
The primitive nature of a cactus,
Protecting it’s precious water.
Or an empty briefcase.
Swinging from the busy arm of
Towering telephone polls,
Who permanently persist here,
With turned up collars of blue,
Mimicking the nature of the sky.
Filling in the gaps between the quicksand and
Empty parking lots,
Near former sites of historical significance,
L I N E S.
Some of these giants
Within earshot of
Black and white odds.
Black and white bylaws.
(While no one is looking)
While ostensibly waiting for different results.
Some of these giants,
Appearing in the most fashionable of haircuts,
Obviously not featured in any particular magazine,
Assuredly not attending any particular gala
Still come adorned with curls of cable,
Weaved into intricate knots,
Honeycombs resembling catacombs
So many silver gaskets.
That shine like rhinestones.
That shine like eyes.
Atop their heads,
That are usually susceptible to exploding in a lightning storms,
Like any good business man should be, anyways.