I am sitting in the bleacher section
In Wrigley field.
.
In front of me,
All of the objects look pretty
Familiar to me.
.
They all seem
Like things I’ve seen,
Understood, grasped
And mastered.
.
I just can’t think of anything to say.
.
On the South side,
Through dust, through anger,
Through neon lights and urgency,
A
.
Din of violence and torture
Explodes into the nether
And I can feel whites of eyes on me
Raging at this life
.
In fangs of being.