Head Down

They drive by slowly,
helplessly,
watching, waiting,
in dream motion,
seeming without souls

They pass quietly,
two, three times around the block,
slowing down as they reach the bus stop

A young girl, green eyes, long cotton dress,
fanning herself, perspiring, irritated,
and an old man, grey suit, "Crain's Chicago,"
looking up only to consume thoroughly
each crucial development, every vital statistic,
and a young man, dreary in brown, backpack,
head down, oblivious,
hypnotized by an old thick book,
all unconscious, violent

And the car stops
and they climb out,
moving forward like spirits
but clutching lead pipes,
swinging and landing,
nearly killing,
and passing on
a little wealthier
but more satisifed in themselves.

Originally published in Cadence, 1988