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March 5th by Michael Tartàglia, © 2001 |
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skies are colorless all around. people make the morning work waltz leaving their cushy metro apartments for the bullet trains to another city. passing through the countryside, through endless green patches, eyes transfix to the business section. when the ride is over, that one's cup is still full, that one's paper unwrinkled. smokestacks and power plants kept the one alert. now off to the hire cars, bland air mixing with the beige buildings... hundreds of passages later, after consistant repetition, the trip still grabs one, whereas the other nonchalants too concerned with numbers, breathe, chew, and spit it all out. to them, just another day does not bring profits a wallet can hold. |
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