PATTERNS

 

Tommy Frank O’Connor

 

Until we meet again

another day awaits

in that steel and concrete world

growling a city hell.

 

I join the quest for mammon

where I meet again

searchers, packed in wheeled boxes.

Twitch, unfeeling, unseeing,

seeking the patch

where each can find a niche

of control.

 

A throng of loneliness

claws its way to work places,

and afterwards trails back

to several tired refuges

called home

patterned by strings of time.

 

Again I leave you

until we meet again.

 

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