Sidewalks are wet,
the smells of rain mixed
with carbon belched
in exhaustion, you pass
blank faces hastening
to blank destinations.
The church door is locked;
no one remembers your name.
This poem is submitted to One Stop Poetry for its Saturday Celebration of The Doors and singer/poet Jim Morrison. The poetry prompt is to write a poem based on a line from the song, “People are Strange.” To see other submitted poems, please visit the site.
