nothing personal…

tourist items
manufactured in china
for
the local market
replicated
indigenous art
sold in
riverbank stalls
by
part-time natives
natives
carving out
an existence
in
a one percent world
complaints
issued
by
travelers
who’ve
already
sold their collective humanity
they are
the commune
of
anesthetized day-trippers
who
outline
verbally
over
an air-conditioned lunch
the crass nature
of
indigenous commerce
commerce
that
replicates
the
world
that provided
their passage
to
this
riverside
market

 

keep in touch…

no one
ever writes
life becomes
too complicated
to
continue composing
short stories
that no one
will
really
read
nor
recall
the purpose of
so that commonly said phrase
let’s keep in touch
tho
well intended
is
most often
a variation
of
goodbye

 

board game…

fragmented promises
lie on the road
yesterday’s despairs
such fine confetti
for a parade
of fools
passing down
narrow cobblestoned alleys
of imagined liberties
to a destination
advertised by
online chatrooms
as the new eden
where free apples
are distributed
by secret police
for the consumption
of weary travellers
on this monopoly board
road to freedom