The day and night are moving
through the cityscape billboards and landmarks
the benches in the park stand frozen alone
nothing sits them the way they sit despair
dead crumbs lying by the cigarette butts
city posts lights and a couple of open windows
like traffic signs of things directing too slow
each foot seems to be moving into
'where do we go? '
'uncontrolled movement into several directions'
flat screen tv will call it a 'situation'
I guess that's where we are placed
into a difficult, conflicting, conflicted 'sitting'
Copyright circled C Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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