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.