Comatose TeensComatose teens in groups of 3
hover with their heads hung low.
A red sun filtered dim
thru mists that taste like morning trash
calls attention to a pepper rash
on speckled heads of groups of 3
drifting eagerly by city hall.
Bicyclists with long rods of fire
pass quickly to destinations we can't know.
While the comatose, with heavy lids, & beetle eyes,
rise up from escalators underground.
Their vacant eyes draw out dreams
thru 2nd story windows into summer skies.
Dread obelisks with inner workings
make-believe their secret means thru translucent stone,
while comatose teens drag rocks & rags
and rocket fuel along well-weathered paths,
and groups of 3 pass thru the trees
to rocket pads, where ion air makes buzzing sounds
and engines roar their sorrowed cries.
(C) 6/5/97 Tom Brinck