by Gene Novogrodsky

I started to list,
You know, panoply.
And then the list dwindled ….

To grim faces in cars and trucks,
Grim, and locked in, windows up ….

To thousands of heads and eyes down
At the blue glow of the phone in hand ….

To the eyes on lottery tickets,
Scratch, tossed to the ground,
Sometimes ask the clerk to check,
Tossed to the ground ….

To the desperation for that parking spot,
Head swivels, looking for the vertical of
Angular or horizontal ….

To the impatience at lights, stop signs,
Just waiting for movement ….

And the list has ended,
And I wonder ….

Eugene “Gene” Novogrodsky
November 2009