Lords of Desolation
by Colin Dardis
The rain talks like a cold cigarette,
walking quietly round a dark corner;
the workers fight noisy windows,
old, dry guys getting a big jackhammer
to push against the streets.
Action is a fast mainland,
with faceless guys
grabbing a dead sidewalk.
Go roughly, like a dark worker
in your exhaustion and lifeless anger;
desolation is an old driver.