10

There are thousands of us
Roaming
      The majority young
And dreadfully lonely
Looking for fulfillment
In the hollows, the cracks where the bricks
         have been warn by winds and passerbys fingertips.
The smoke of too many cigarettes,
The smells of too many sun embraced steps in the afternoon's sweat,
In the late to bed searches, for agreement in gestures, in eyes that say yes
while drinks put to rest, all thoughts that had festered, all thoughts of regret,
In moments of  pleasure what need of respect?
             What          need, to be known.