Tour
Mirrored doors and windows, the same cars and gardens.
Twenty-Four-hour stores in the center of doppelganger suburban streets.
Where do the animals play?
With views of splendid tranquility, how do we people sleep?
The lights do not end, scattered particles across natures body, lighting the way for clones.
A tour of accidental means has opened my mind and haunted my dreams.
This will last.
This will be all.
Copyright © Kristopher Curran | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment