Desperate Escapes
By Odin Roark

They see only what they need,
That desire to see beyond
The heat and squalor,
The effrontery to their species' senses,
These sentient beings whose 2nd bedroom
Remains the fire escape.

How haunting
The mangy dog sniffing the gutter below,
Ribs needing something besides vanishing hair
To protect his fragile existence,
His pride long gone
Like the optimistic glow of a downtrodden eye
Slowly closing in the darkness of lost hope.

Yet…

Somehow the animal survives,
Knows no ring-of-battle towel to throw,
Not ropes to hang upon,
No round bell of ending to depend upon.

We contemplate…

High above TV antennae sway precariously,
Moon's glow the spotlight,
This era of cable
Beyond reach,
HD a dream for many,
Rabbit ears struggling to survive
Yet another era of poverty.

For such mutual survivors,
Resting on window sills,
Splayed on cast iron escapes
Atop pillow and laundry,
The square screen offers fantasy survival,
Providing dreams in the bed-of-hope
Even though void of reality,
Their innocence klinging,
They survive greed's harsh weapons,
Enduring further nights of longing,
Endemic to cookie-cutter imitations
A grandiose Manhattan perpetual struggle,
Syria's,
Athens',
Perhaps even tomorrow's utopia.

When does the glad hand of deception disappear
The reach of power's greed meet its end?

To talk,
To negotiate,
To be human,
Some believe
Remains futility's endowment.

Never perhaps an epiphanies’ platform,
But fire escapes, stairwells and rooftops around the world
Will always afford relief for the moment,
Trusting someday
There will be
No need
For such painful dreaming…
Such desperate escapes.