Fake People

Wander through the false streets
Of the imitation city.
Gaudy colors show in
Crisp detail and sharp focus
the blurred, superficial
Unreality of lathered make-up
And bogus slang.
Sickeningly sweet speech
Leave drops of poison where it falls.
Insincere, to say the least.
Pulled along by the overwhelming tide,
weary spirits pace the sidewalks
No memories, only morose cigarette butts left behind.
Yellowed newspapers, soaked in the stink,
Hawking cynicism and unnecessary baggage,
Blow through the sea,
Past fish of silver, black, and Volkswagen.
The cold ocean.
Or was it rain? Sheets of
Grey wash out color,
Flows like warm anger.
Deluge cleans the grime from the streets
And scum from the soul.