The not so distant howl
of hairless wolves out hunting
echoes through the silent weed-veined streets
and scares two-legged packrats back
into the make-shift fortresses hastily built
to shield them just one more night
from the pus-covered lunacies.
And sometimes when the bloodthirsty hate of sun breaks
through the soiled security blanket of civilization
to melt the whorish snow of an unnatural winter,
a new generation of children can be seen
laughing at the wolves who wait for nightfall,
playing hide and seek among driverless traffic jams,
running about either not knowing or not caring
that their tender barefeet are cut to ribbons
by acres of broken glass.