Darkness

Skipping stones, near government hospital backs amidst dead floating on-lookers
Searching smashed-flat insects on windshields of forgotten cars
Hopping across remnants of branches, blackened by the winter
Breaking pollen residues on top of used bleaching agent barrels
Listening for that out of sync blare from the police siren

Blindfolded against contemporariness, blinded by simplicity
These pleasures - too small, too dark, too itchy for sophistication to ponder

True it is - requited joy comes with the loneliest tag.

--vind