another town all the same

you have a window with a view

of this

earth

as you speed by,

is any of it true?

is it a stage, are these

houses props,

these cars,

these people.

whose dog is that 

tied to a dying tree?

so many vines from

pole to pole,

to give light

to flat roof houses with

no shades

on the windows,

there's no shame,

or fear

as they towel themselves

looking into

mirrors.

just lives living out

the string.

living out the years.

around the next bend lies

another town.

all the same.