LAMENTATIONS

by David Eide

Oh instrument, oh voice to reach these people; the happy ones dancing along the latitude of joy. "Don't I dance in this space too? Don’t we share some profound secret that neither the past or the future know?"

A voice dangles in the twilight air, in the summer, where no children can be seen out in the street; only crowds of self- contained people who need absolutely nothing, as if every gradient of the city were a happy combination of pressures.

Powerful and beautiful women cascade through the evening darkness waiting for a car to pull up or hoping that the favorite signs will be lit up and inspire fantasies they will not otherwise have.

Oh self-appointed keepers of the city's integrity, where are you? Do you laugh at slow and leisured walks through the street? Do you believe that the world turns on your careful thoughts?

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