I'm seeing people
absent from the scenes
they compose
They travel on wind
they are gone
in a sudden gust
they sweep through
skyline halls and
alleys and
many places
they never noticed
The cities sleep
in constant dreams
and mirror pictures
where the absence
of yesterday
is rising smoke
from the carefree fires
that are the streetlights
In this placelessness
all of the bricks
are laid flat on the ground
in a massive sheet
The cities slip
into a deepness
and miss nothing left of
what they were
but become lifeless.