This is what life becomes.

walking through midnight
well after the crows have gone
to sleep in their shallow graves
I wander through these streets,
empty, but still reeking of
waves of humanity crashing
over the metal and cement and
signs everywhere telling you
where to go and what to do and
how you should do things, if you please
please please pleas, ignored
in this unsilent night, I am waiting
to become sleepy, waiting for night
to rush out and find morning waiting
with the newspaper, with the fresh
shipment of sandwiches and milk

I am waiting for the phone to ring,
but there is no one on the line.