Like stray cats
Wanting to be wanted,
Their eyes would look up at you, longingly, if it had not been
For their pride.
Lined down the streets you see them everyday in transit,
Their minds too, somewhere else.
If you gave fish to the cats
They would at least come by and nibble,
And rub their warm bodies against the trunk of your leg, but these
Would pass you by, shuffling along the invisible walls
That separate their worlds from yours.
Why should I be so surprised?
After all, this is the age wireless networks in the air
Can pull continents together, as much as its firewalls
Can put a sea between two rooms.
But I ask myself, what it is, about the city in this age,
That I love so much?
Or is it that, for the lack of imagination,
This has become, to me,
An easier loneliness to bear?