Do NOT go home before 7:30

in the summertime


Long, hot, Indian


Sirens wail


Beads of sweat


down the spine




in a metallic graveyard


Anger and wretched sorrow

mar the faces

of so many suffering souls


The price of getting from

point A

to point B


has left us to endure

the better part of lives for some

substantial losses for any


be it driver, cyclist, pedestrian

green rider of mass transit

for none can escape


the infiltration of greed

the few, over the many

rule from the shadows


Their insatiable laughter

only a distant



O! Plato knows

and so

let us bake


in our rocket-tombs

almost, not quite, for eternity

the baron's sale




Leila Bejanpour