TECHNICOLOR POLYCHROMATIC WASTELAND

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By Tom H. Brooks 3

a neon rainbow
swath of destruction
gouged
through
a valley of emptiness
more barren
than the desert
that once existed here…
We trudge
through each day
isolated in our
cars
buses
shells
trains
talking on cell phones
driving
down endless boulevards
that go nowhere…
the edge of the continent
the final frontier of the new world
the end of everything…
This city by the sea
she watches the
fiery orange twilight sun
drop from the sky
and sink into an endless ocean
leaving us
nothing
but darkness,
our only lights
the neon beacons
of advertising
always
flashing
their pointless messages…
THB3
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