Memento Mori

I was in Duesseldorf recently, watching dreams

burn out on the sidewalk. I love this city.

The way the rich sit in their restaurants like animals

locked in a zoo. Money isn’t character.

I know that because I have none. I love the view.

The way the sun sets over the promenade

makes me want to live in the now. The way people

refuse to let go of their vision,

no matter the cost. Like a hand holding tight

to an old rag. It’s a sentiment,

composed of the dirt on their fists and the oil

of machines. Like a moment of truth,

the flick of a match. Provoking the gods, to see

if anything will rise from the ashes.

Us, standing still despite of everything.