I miss my
country friends
(For
Fernando Palma Rodriguez)
I miss my
country friends
Like I miss
fresh air
There’s lots
of pretty faces in the city
But the
conversations are dull
Always
rushing to the endpoint
The music
always too loud
& you
yourself have no faith
That any new
territory will be reached
Conversations
are afterall relational
In the city
the conversations chop & change constantly
Everyone for
some reason in a hurry
Little resonates
& I’m as
dulled as they are
I’m lonely
here
My nights
are taken up with small talk
Everyone
selling a message of hope
When there’s
a ghost inside their breast
We talk
without any appetite
No candour, consideration,
nor grit
We do not
listen well here in the city
Our ears ringing
from the traffic & the muzak
We cannot
see the horizon
We have lost
our sense of direction
Published
& Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.
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