Evening Market
dread pulsates through the evening
market
under dying neon lights
strange men armor shimmering
prowl through
their eyes are hidden behind
mirrored visors
their movements seem smooth
almost clinical
I want to study their faces
are they chiseled cold sullen
do they have their own
hopes
secrets
sorrows
suddenly I can see one of them
I can see through his visor
I can see him sharp and clear
I can see that the man
looks like me
no wonder
they won’t lift their face shields
they know too well
they are no different from us
they are of us
souls are parched out
under dying neon lights
in the evening market
J.S.
O’Keefe
J.S. O’Keefe has published in Antipodean SF, Friday Flash Fiction, 101Words, 50 Word Stories, Roi Faineant, Dissident Voice,